


HEAT

by ILoveJorja



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveJorja/pseuds/ILoveJorja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle deal with a medical emergency alone in the desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HEAT

By: ILoveJorja  
Sara and Grissom alone in the desert, dealing with a medical emergency. GSR.  
Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Drama - Sara S., Gil G. - Chapters: 24 - Words: 30,255 - Reviews: 214 - Favs: 37 - Follows: 30 - Updated: Oct 10, 2009 - Published: Sep 13, 2009 - Status: Complete -  
HEAT  
Author: ILoveJorja 

Rated: M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Drama - Reviews: 214 - Published: 09-13-09 - 

GSR. No spoilers. Rated M.  
HEAT  
Sara was striding ahead of him. She seemed to do so effortlessly, with a calm steady pace that ate up the miles. Grissom, on the other hand, was struggling. Moving forward in fits and starts. Dragging a sleeve across his face. Breathing heavily. Feeling his muscles cramp and burn.  
God it's hot.  
Not a brilliant observation, since they were in Nevada, hiking through the desert, under a blazing sun. The ground was uneven and steep, with lots of sharp stones to slow them down or trip them up. Grissom had to concentrate on each step. Sara seemed to float along. He envied her; her youth, her energy, her long legs, her grace, her endurance. The bare legs, though, were a bonus.  
Christ it's so fucking hot.  
You'd think I'd be used to it. It was a rare day when it wasn't. Man was not meant to live and work under these conditions. No other life form was visible for miles around, other than twisted and browned plants and signs of scavengers–scat and tracks and little bones. If not for some greedy developers, no one would have plopped down this crazy city in the middle of the damn desert.  
Sara sensed his discomfort, stopping often to let him catch up. Offered him water each time. Let him catch his breath, each time, by making small talk, so it wasn't obvious that she was babying him. Letting him keep his pride. Pride seemed to be the only thing that kept him going. Grissom was a strong man, she knew, and he had been a talented athlete in his youth, but that fitness had eroded over the years. Too many years in air conditioning, sitting at a desk or lab or in an interrogation room. Too many years driving, not walking. Too many hurried unhealthy meals. He'd grown soft.  
He'd left his hat in the car. A small thing, but it kept nagging at him. Grissom kept picturing it, that silly straw hat that everyone made fun of, uselessly resting in the trunk on a pile of equipment. At least he had sunglasses, but the sun beating on his head felt like it was baking his brain.  
Sara was dressed as comfortably and sensibly as possible. A CSI cap pulled down low over her eyes. Her chestnut hair pulled through the back so it shaded and let the back of her neck breathe. Dark-black sunglasses, so she wasn't squinting like he was. A white tank top. One arm swinging free, carrying the silver crime scene kit. They only needed one, she'd insisted. Loose khaki shorts that reached more than halfway to her knees. Reinforced white cotton/blend hiking socks and sturdy ankle-high desert boots. She actually looked at ease.  
Grissom looked extremely uncomfortable. He was. Long sleeves. CSI jacket. Long polyester blend pants. Shoes, not boots. Beet red in the face. Sweat all over his body, stinging in his eyes.  
God it's hot. Must be well over 110 now. And that would be in the shade.  
Shade was like gold out here. Better. Wherever rocks or ledges cast a little shade, there would be little critters hiding, dug in, waiting until dark. Snakes. Lizards. Beetles. A few little rodents. Not much else.  
"Freaking day shift." Sara said, looking around. Grissom agreed heartily.  
The call had come in at the very end of their shift. Another half hour and those buttheads would be out here suffering in this awful heat instead of us. It was just a pile of bones. A skull grinning up at an indifferent sky. A lost hiker, most likely. Natural causes, probably, but they had to investigate regardless. The CSIs had to hike out to it in daylight as it was miles from any road and inaccessible. The skeleton had only been stumbled upon by some ATV riders. Sara and Grissom were trying to follow the faint ATV tracks but they wandered in all directions. And they were invisible for long stretches. They had a compass bearing and some vague directions but few landmarks to guide them. Their SUV and the state trooper and his squad car had long ago vanished behind them.  
Dirt and sand. Baked hot rocks. Hills. A sky white with heat. Parched landscape. Browns and greys the only colors. Monotonous. Inhospitable. Lifeless.  
Grissom and Sara paused at the bottom of yet another steep hill, eyeing it. They shared some more water. It was warm, hot even, but it was life.  
"Uh. I...need to pee." Grissom told her, looking away.  
"I do too. I'll go this way and you go that way, okay?" Sara said kindly.  
Grissom grunted in acknowledgment and they did so, respecting each other's modesty.  
Again they stood at the base of the steep broken hill, internally plotting their way up.  
"Shouldn't be too much further." Sara tried to sound encouraging.  
Grissom huffed a breath and they started upwards.  
At least it's Sara out here with me. Keeping me good company. Respecting my limitations. Respecting my pride. She's...kind. She...takes care of me. He thought about that. Sara takes care of me. Almost like...a wife would. She knows what I need. She doesn't complain or annoy or pester me. Never asks for much. Just a little respect. Just a little...compassion. Why is that so damn hard? A little affection? Appreciation? For everything she does, and is? So intelligent...so good...so damn beautiful. Grissom shook his head angrily and cursed himself.  
They got to the top of the hill and looked ahead. Another, bigger hill, the biggest they'd faced yet. Practically a mountain. No sign of their destination. No sign of anything. Grissom and Sara both groaned with pain and frustration.  
"Fuck it's hot." Grissom muttered.  
"Sure is." Sara answered, an eyebrow raised at his rare obscenity, looking him over. Sure he's been struggling, but now he looks worse.  
"You doing okay?" she asked worriedly.  
"Fine."  
"Wanna sit for awhile?"  
"Want to...get this over with." Grissom muttered bitterly.  
"I do too." She started forward and Grissom followed her footsteps.  
He concentrated on watching her walk. Following her step for step. Those muscles in her legs flexing. Calves, thighs, even the inside of her knees perfectly formed. Beauty. Art in motion. Her shifting hips. The white tank top ringed with sweat. Her hair swaying in rhythm with her steps. Head down. The shiny silver case swinging. Plodding on.  
It got steeper. The rocks slid beneath their feet. Sara slowed to a careful crawl, stopping until she heard his footsteps crunching closer. Grissom followed close behind, keeping his eyes on her lithe body.  
The burning heat inside his head was beyond a headache. It was making him feel weak and dizzy. His breathing was ragged. Grissom's stomach roiled with bile. He realized he hadn't eaten for more than 24 hours. Hadn't slept well or long in days. His legs were more and more wobbly.  
Sara leaned forward, fingertips brushing the dirt as she climbed. She threw the case as far up and ahead of her as she could then climbed on. Grissom was mesmerized by the pale smooth skin of her back as her shirt rode up. Glistening drops of sweat slid perfectly down the straight furrow of her spine and disappeared under her waistband. Grissom thought dazedly he had never seen anything more arousing in his life.  
Sara stopped and tried to balance herself on her hands when her lower foot slid out from under her. She looked like a sprinter waiting for the starting gun.  
Grissom's hands moved straight out in front of him without conscious control. He just had to touch that skin. Feel that sweat on the very tips of his fingers. Grasp her by the hips and pull her up against him. He wasn't a scientist anymore. Nor a rational, thoughtful man. He was reduced to an animal driven only by base desires. Want. Need. His conscience had curled into a ball and gone to sleep.  
Grissom closed the small distance and his hands grabbed her waist. He seemed to be watching them do it from afar. Sara gasped and flinched.  
"Wha? Grissom?"  
Sara shot a look at him over her shoulder. His eyes were unfocused. His color was mottled. Face blank. He looked like zombie. His fingers were the only part of him that moved. They gripped her tighter and pushed in the softness just above the hips.  
"Gris? Gris! Are you okay?"  
No reaction. My hands. My hands...glued to her. Magnetic...She feels...  
Sara turned and watched his face go completely white as swiftly as if someone had pulled a plug.  
Black spots swam into his eyes. Tunnel vision. There seemed to be a voice calling his name, far away.  
"Grissom!"  
Grissom collapsed in a limp heap. His body slid downhill face first and his head bounced and then he was still.  
"GRIS!"  
Sara reacted in a moment of raw panic. She slid down next to him and grasped his head. She held on and let herself cry a little. Help. Oh, God, Grissom.  
Yes, still breathing, but shallow. Yes, a pulse, but thready. Bad. This is bad.  
Sara rolled him over and pulled his head onto her lap and looked all around, thinking frantically.  
She felt his skin. Hot and dry. This is very bad.  
Heat stroke.  
Shit. Heat stroke. A potentially life-threatening condition, a flat voice recited in her brain. Seek urgent medical attention immediately. Dizziness, unconsciousness, altered mental state, hot dry skin, weak pulse. Can cause...Stop! One thing at a time.  
What to do? What to do first?  
Call for help. Sara unclipped the cell phone on her belt. No signal, the screen mocked her. She got out Grissom's. Low battery, his jeered. No signal. Fuck.  
Okay. Don't panic. They know we're out here. Don't panic.  
Sara felt around his head but found no sign of a head injury. Good. There was a red raw scrape on his face that trickled a little blood. For some reason it bothered her, a lot. The bloody scrape was full of dirt. She wet a finger in her mouth and gently tried to clean it.  
Lower his body temperature. I can try. Sara worked off his knapsack first and set it aside. She struggled with his clothes. Why do you wear so many clothes, Grissom? A polyester jacket? In this heat? Are you nuts? He was as heavy and limp as one of their mannequins, but she managed to roll him on his side and work his arms out of the sleeves.  
One step at a time. It gave her comfort to see his chest rise and fall with his breath.  
"Long-sleeved shirt. Buttoned up. Do you need someone to dress you in the morning, Gilbert?" she asked him, frustrated. "You're a genius–and a damn fool."  
Sara methodically worked all the buttons loose. He was wearing a white T-shirt under that, soaked with sweat. She sighed. She took off his shirt the same way she had his jacket. Then his shoes. And socks.  
Sara grasped his belt, then paused. The groin is the hottest place on the body, she reminded herself. Sara smirked. Keep your mind out of the gutter, Sidle. It just is. Armpits are number two. Would Grissom appreciate her taking off his pants? She snickered, picturing his reaction, what he would say. Some of her anxiety evaporated in giggles. What a look he would have on his face. Oh my.  
Lifesaving measures, right? Okay. A compromise, for now. Sara undid his belt and removed it from the loops, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. A little better. What next?  
Water.  
"How much do we have left?" Sara muttered aloud. She went through his knapsack first. One full liter. Good. Sara balled up Grissom's jacket and pillowed it under his head, then scrambled uphill and retrieved her kit. One empty bottle, less than a mouthful in the bottom, one 2/3 empty. Not so good.  
She tried to remember everything she'd learned at a team class on desert dangers, on everything from rattlesnakes to dehydration and poisonous spiny plants, years ago. It was way back when she'd first started at Vegas, a green CSI. She had sat with Greg in the back and he kept her giggling most of the time. Grr. Why hadn't she paid better attention?  
Don't worry. Use your common sense. You can do it.  
Sara looked over the shirt. He's not wearing a hat. Maybe I can...she wrapped a sleeve around his forehead and the rest over his hair. Better. Then she carefully moistened the sleeve with a tiny bit of water and tied it around his forehead again, carefully shading Grissom's eyes and pushing the sunglasses in to hold it in place. She smiled at her own ingenuity. He looked like a sheik, and with that dark beard, like Omar Sharif. Nice.  
What else do we have? Sara carefully unpacked and looked at each item in her kit and in Grissom's knapsack, evaluating their usefulness. Hey. A waterproof poncho. Wonder if I can rig up some shade. She got up and looked for sticks, but they were too short and brittle. Unfolding a telescoping tripod, she maneuvered it until it blocked the sun and hooked the poncho up and anchored it with rocks.  
Now she felt quite proud of herself. The shade easily dropped the temperature down 20 degrees, maybe more, and his dry skin was already cooler. The sun should soon go over the hill to the other side. Sara calculated. In about–an hour and a half. But then it will be pitch dark. And cold. Another wave of panic hit but she fought it down bravely. The team will know we are in trouble when night comes. One thing at a time.  
Keep busy. Help Grissom. What else? She found a tube of lip balm and grinned like she'd found a diamond. Grissom's lips were dry and starting to peel. So were hers, she realized. She smeared it on his mouth generously and then her own. Not how I imagined our first kiss, she thought, and laughed at herself. A kiss. Why not? What if he...? She leaned forward before that thought could take root and kissed him gently. Stroking his face and beard, she looked at him and then kissed him again. His lips were hot, but unresponsive.  
"Oh, Gris. Wake up. Wake up so I can kiss you properly. Kiss you silly, you big lug."  
Tears glittered in her eyes and she wiped them away impatiently.  
She took the lip balm out again and smeared it all over his handsome face. There was sunblock in it and that would keep him from getting burned any worse. And it would keep some of the moisture in his body from evaporating. Dehydration. Kidney damage. Spiked temperature. Brain damage...STOP! You can only try to help!  
Sara concentrated on smearing every exposed inch of Grissom's skin with the lip balm. These things never run out anyway. God knows how many tubes I have, and I can't remember ever throwing a single one away. Up and down his arms, finally able to feel the beautifully defined muscles there. Hands. Fingers. Feet. She ran her hands across his broad chest, feeling it through the cotton T-shirt. It was intoxicating to be able to touch him like this, at last. His neck. Throat. Up to and including his ears, their tops already red and blistered.  
Then she methodically spread it on her own body, starting with the places that were stinging with sunburn. Shoulders. Nose. Ears. Tops of hands. Kneecaps. The middle of her upper back was burning, but that was hopeless. It calmed her to stroke the slick waxy substance on every millimeter of skin she could reach. Good. Keep a cool head. You're doing good, Sara.  
Back to Grissom's mouth again. She tugged a lip upward and checked his gums. Pale, but tinged slightly with pink. Good. Lifted an eyelid. Pupils responsive to light. Color looks better. Breathing not good but-pulse maybe a little stronger. Nice work, Dr. Sidle. She let herself feel hope. Maybe they would be okay.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER TWO  
The sun had gone behind the hill by the time Sara finished smearing the lip balm all over her body. She felt the temperature drop abruptly before she noticed the change in light. Deserts are hot places, of course, but more importantly they are dry. Without the sun, all that heat quickly dissipates. Antarctica is a desert, she remembered, based on precipitation-not temperature.  
Sara sat and watched Grissom breathe. There was not much more she could do for him right now. Sara took a deep steadying breath and then another, and automatically swallowed. She couldn't. Her mouth seemed to be full of glue. Sara regarded the water bottles.  
"Won't be much good to anyone if I die of thirst."  
Sara opened a bottle and took a long swallow. Ah. Another sip, then she firmly twisted the cap back on and put all the bottles in his knapsack. She folded her legs Indian-style and thought. A violent shiver broke her out of her reverie.  
"Sure. I just get done getting us cool and now I have to see about keeping us warm."  
A woman's work is never done, she thought to herself, and snickered. Okay. It will be light for maybe another–three hours. Plenty of time to get ready for the night. Sara pulled her shirt up and took off her bra, absurdly keeping her back to the unconscious Grissom. Ha. Who cares. That feels 100 percent better. She put her shirt back on and stuffed the bra into his knapsack.  
Sara removed the poncho from the tripod and laid it down. She untied Grissom's shirt from his head and put in on, buttoning it all the way up. It was way too big of course but she instantly felt warmer.  
"Okay, Grissom, you get your jacket back. Guess you aren't a complete fool." She smiled at him fondly.  
Sara lifted a limp arm and fed it into a sleeve. Then she tugged him up until his head lolled on her chest. Sara sucked in an emotional breath and wrapped an arm around his head and the other across his back, rocking them slightly, eyes wet, murmuring to herself.  
"Oh Gris. Don't die on me. Please be okay. I need you."  
The emotions steadied at last and she bent and put his other arm through a sleeve and then laid him down tenderly. Buttoned up his jacket and smoothed it and tugged it down. She looked at him for a long time. Sighed. Then Sara did up his pants and put his socks back on.  
"Okay, poncho, you're a blanket now. Don't freak," she joked.  
Sara got the poncho and everything she thought they might need and set it close. Methodically, she brushed all the loose stones away from the place where their bodies would rest. She fed his feet through the neck hole of the poncho and then regarded it critically. Tight fit. Sara grabbed his right arm and pulled Grissom so he was lying on his side, knees bent. That looks better. Looks like he's sleeping, not unconscious. She took her boots off and put them aside tidily. Took off her belt. Removed their sunglasses and put them in the boots, then took off her hat and brushed a hand through her hair.  
Sara lay down carefully behind Grissom, wiggling until her hip was more comfortable, then put her feet into the hood of the poncho and it covered their feet and lower legs. Hey, this isn't bad. My legs were freezing, but now they're good.  
Sara carefully tugged the poncho up until it covered their legs, then lay down experimentally. A pillow. Can't sleep without that. She reached out and got the knapsack and put it under his head, tugging it so she could rest her head on it too. Sara pulled the poncho/blanket up to cover her waist and his, then slid her slim arm under his neck and wrapped her right arm around his body, snuggling in tight. Nice and warm. Better than a hot water bottle, big guy. Sara smiled at him in the waning light and kissed his ear.  
"Good night, Gil. Sweet dreams."  
Settling down comfortably, she relaxed, at last. The long hours, lack of sleep, powerful emotions and arduous activity had all drained her. Sara fell asleep.  
TBC  
A/N: I am very touched by the wonderful reviews so far. I seem to be attracting a completely different set of reviewers and readers, and that is very gratifying. No more teases. I will continue. Reviews are such an amazing feature, it makes an author just beam with joy. Please take a minute and send me a comment.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER THREE  
When Sara awoke, it was to a darkness she'd rarely experienced. She blinked at Grissom's solid bulk. Complete darkness. Can't see a hand in front of my face, she thought, and wiggled her fingers before her nose experimentally. Well, she could see that, just barely, because her hand blocked a few of the stars.  
The stars. Wow. Never had she seen such a glorious display. Glittering, twinkling, uncountable stars. The familiar constellations stood out in clear relief against the misty vast white cloud of the Milky Way, surrounded by more stars in more patterns than she'd ever seen before. Awesome. Majestic. Humbling. There were not superlatives enough to describe the sight.  
Sara rolled back and drank it in, loosening her hold on her silent partner.  
"Grissom would love this."  
"Gris has to see this."  
Overcome, she raised a hand and found his shoulder and shook it firmly.  
"Grissom! Wake up!"  
Sara shook him harder, then tugged hard enough to make him thump to his back.  
"Wake up, Gris! WAKE UP!"  
Sara yelled and thumped on his chest like a drum. Pinched his cheeks, hard.  
To her complete and utter delight, he grunted. She could see his blinking eyes glitter in the starlight. Grissom waved a hand around weakly until he caught her wrist and groaned deep in his throat.  
"Wha? What...goin...onn?" Grissom croaked.  
"GRIS! You're awake!"  
"Sa...Ra?"  
"Yes! It's SARA! You're Awake! You're not Dead!"  
Grissom seemed to have a hard time responding to that startling statement. He made a few noises that sounded vaguely like words. Paused, clearly struggling.  
Then he cleared his throat and creaked out, "Wah..ter?"  
Sara immediately grabbed the knapsack from under his head, causing it to drop heavily to the ground. A thump, then a groan, that sounded loud in the complete silence.  
"Oops! Sorry!" Sara giggled hysterically in relief. She dug through the knapsack, unable to stop giggling. She found the bottle that held less than a third left and struggled to lift his head and neck with her arm. Can't waste...make sure he doesn't spill it. Sara got him a bit more upright and untwisted the cap with her teeth and spat it out.  
"Here. Drink."  
Sara winced when he downed nearly the whole bottle. Sighed when she realized he needed the fluids desperately. Pulled the bottle away and finished it off, every last tantalizing drop. Laid Grissom back down and waited for him to gather his wits.  
"Sara?" the familiar voice rumbled. "What...happened?"  
"Oh Gris I was so worried," Sara said in a rush. "So scared. You passed out. Heat stroke. You've been unconscious for...well I don't know exactly, I don't know what time it is but it was...late afternoon. Heat stroke! Do you know how dangerous that is? I tried to call for help...but there's no signal. You scared me to death." She pushed the poncho down and sat up. "We were hiking, remember? And it was so hot? And I guess it was too much for you...you turned white as a ghost and fell and slid downhill. Fell straight down on your face and slid down. You were...you were...so...still." She choked up.  
Grissom heard the muffled sobs and his heart melted.  
"Sara." He reached out blindly until he could touch her and grasped her arm.  
"Sara. Shh. It's okay...s'okay...sshhh..." Without thought, he pulled her down and hugged her to him. He let her cry. Wrapped his big arms around her, squeezed his eyes closed, and bit back his own tears. They rocked together a little and rode it out.  
Picturing how he would have reacted if she had been the one to pass out from sunstroke, miles from civilization, he could feel and understand her emotional reactions.  
"Hey. Hey," Grissom whispered, when she had quieted. "You did good, Sara. You did very good."  
"I...I guess so."  
"You did. You saved me."  
"Maybe. But we aren't really saved yet, are we," Sara said sadly.  
"We will be. Don't worry. We'll get through this."  
"Yeah. It was harder–when you were out cold. I feel...better now."  
"Tell me what you did," Grissom said.  
Sara described her efforts, the resources she'd used, and rigging up the poncho for shade. Grissom listened, growing more and more impressed, and urged her to go on. When she had finished telling him about getting ready for nightfall, he took her hand and squeezed it.  
"Sara. You are a remarkably intelligent and clever woman. I never would have thought of all that."  
"Sure you would."  
"No. I would have done something stupidly heroic like carry you out of here on my back." Sara giggled.  
"Carrying 120 pounds of dead weight? You wouldn't have made it a mile."  
"No, and I probably would have dropped you off a cliff." They both laughed, and she hugged him.  
"Hey, did you see the stars?" Sara said eagerly. "Look!"  
Grissom lay back and looked. Gazed up in wonder. After a long time, he said reverently, "Wow."  
"Yeah. Wow," Sara answered. "I knew...I wanted...I wanted you to see this."  
They lay back, Grissom with his arm under Sara's neck, and she with a hand resting lightly on his chest. Gazed up at the vast wonder of the night and let their eyes drink it in and their thoughts wander to deep contemplation.  
"Thank you. It's..."  
"Yes," she whispered. "It is."  
TBC  
A/N: This chapter has a tribute to my reviewer and fellow author Moonstarer. She knows what it is, I hope. To grt, jjhart1982, and jayjay, since I can't write you back, let me say I really liked your comments too. Thank you. I enjoy all your reviews, each and every one, and I thank you for reading this and encouraging me. Keep it up!  
HEAT  
CHAPTER FOUR: Meanwhile  
Meanwhile, back at the lab, anxiety was quickly spreading over Grissom and Sara's whereabouts and condition. The first alarm was sounded by the state trooper who had been waiting all day near the CSI vehicle. When dusk came with no sign of them, Trooper McQuiston put out a broadcast and radioed a deputy to relieve him. The state police in turn contacted the local police and the Las Vegas station, and Jim Brass sent some of his men and Detective Vega to the area to set up a command post.  
Catherine knew as soon as she arrived for her shift that night that things were not right with her coworkers. She called Brass, who had just gotten the message himself, and he assured her that he was taking action. She shared the news with Warrick, Greg, and Nick, and they reacted in their individual characteristic ways. Warrick was angry that no one had noticed Gris and Sara missing for so many hours and was determined to head out immediately to search for them. Nick unselfishly agreed to go with him. Greg was a nervous wreck and had trouble gathering his thoughts, repetitively asking what he could do to help. Catherine told them all firmly that there was little or nothing to do before daybreak, and sent them all out on assignments to keep them busy and focused.  
When they had left, she fought down her own panic and drew a deep breath. Catherine picked up the phone and called the sheriff, undersheriff, and Ecklie, and filled them all in. Then she busied herself with a case though her thoughts kept wandering back to Gil and Sara.  
The media quickly got hold of the story (the sheriff was always looking for free publicity) and all the local television news stations sent broadcast vans to the place they had last been seen. Once they were set up, the usual coterie of blow-dried reporters breathlessly repeated the same information for each broadcast.  
CNN also sent reporters, as did the Vegas newspaper. "CSIs Lost In the Desert" was the top story throughout the night and next day. And Grissom's and Sara's faces were plastered all over the news.  
Brass sent a class of police cadets to search the desert at dawn. The young cadets, eager to do some "real" police work, started arriving hours early, in the wee hours, and milled about excitedly. Brass considered dispatching a helicopter but knew that would have to wait for daylight as well. By the time he made it to the scene, there was a small army awaiting, with at least a dozen law enforcement vehicles, all with different logos on their doors. A small crowd of local residents also showed up, curious to see the excitement.  
Brass was kept busy for hours with repetitive questions and interviews. He ordered the most eager and annoying of the cadets to go for lots of food and fresh coffee and that got them out of his hair for a while, as the nearest town was miles away.  
The Park Service sent two rangers whose knowledge of the area and detailed contour maps gave Jim Brass some relief from the anxiety twisting his gut. The rangers set off with flashlights and Brass wished them well and good luck.  
Trooper McQuiston returned to share the little he knew of the direction Grissom and Sara were hiking in, and the location of the skeleton, with the other officers. As a fresh face and voice, he was instantly besieged with reporters. Brass heaved a relieved sigh and retreated to his vehicle to call all the CSIs and update them. Then he had to return messages from Sheriff Mobley, Undersheriff McKeen, and Conrad Ecklie, three of his least favorite people on the planet. When that was done, he set his seat back and closed his eyes, mentally yelling at Grissom for putting them all through this drama. He took two Excedrin, drank two coffees, ate a donut and a cruller, and waited, along with everyone else.  
As soon as the sun peeked over the horizon, Brass took charge of the cadets and instructed them to walk abreast, spread apart but within sight of each other, and head west, looking for footprints and other signs of Supervisor Grissom and CSI Sara Sidle. They bounded away like dogs let off the leash, and he smiled at their enthusiasm.  
Brass radioed for a helicopter to help but was informed that the nearest chopper was out of commission. He released some of his frustration by cursing at the guy on the other end, then apologized and hung up. He then radioed the other precincts and was told after another aggravatingly long period of time that it might be more than an hour before they could get one to his location. Brass wished he had some of Grissom's migraine medicine and ate a sandwich.  
After an hour and a half, Jim was informed that two of the cadets were injured, one with a sprained ankle and the other had taken a nasty spill and had an undetermined back injury. He rolled his eyes and muttered a few choice words under his breath. Brass sent for paramedics and when they rolled in he sent them out to help the cadets. This is turning into a circus.  
Warrick and Nick arrived and came to a screeching halt in a cloud of dust. They found Brass in the mob. He was quite relieved to see them and felt their calming presence, as well as being touched that they would come straight out after their long night shift.  
"What can we do?" Nick immediately asked.  
"If you can catch up to them, get out there and direct those cadets. They're a bunch of kids. Take lots of water."  
Warrick and Nick nodded and got their gear. Brass showed them the locations on the map and let them take the map along, with his thanks, and they strode away.  
"Oh and guys?" he called after the CSIs. They turned back to listen.  
"Grissom and Sara are going to be okay."  
Warrick agreed and when Nick looked doubtful, he slapped him on the back and said, "C'mon, cowboy. Let's bring them home."  
A/N: Thanks to My Kate for reminding me to tell this side of the story! Who do you think will find them?  
HEAT  
CHAPTER FIVE  
Completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding miles away, Grissom and Sara fell peacefully back asleep. When Grissom awoke next it was to a pale dawn, the chilled air still and quiet. Sara was sitting a few feet away, arms crossed on her knees, and looking intently at something in the near distance. Grissom sat up on his elbow and admired her for a few minutes.  
"Hey," he said softly.  
Sara immediately turned and grinned at him. "Hey! How are you feeling?"  
Grissom did a mental inventory. "Not bad. Surprisingly well rested, in fact. Just a slight headache."  
"Good. Me too. I can't remember the last time I slept that long. Guess we both needed it."  
Grissom smiled back at her. God I love her smile. "What were you looking at?"  
"Oh. I was watching a lizard get her breakfast." She pointed to the base of their hill.  
"Her?" Grissom tried to focus his eyes in that direction.  
"Yeah. A female twin-spotted spiny lizard. See?"  
As if on cue, a little pale brown lizard with a thin black ring on its neck emerged from behind a rock pile, skittered and halted in lizard fashion, and pecked at the ground.  
"You know your Reptilia?" Grissom asked, once again impressed.  
"Yeah, some of them," Sara shrugged. "I saw the male earlier. He's got a blue splotch on his neck and is darker. I like lizards."  
"Sexual dimorphism." Sara nodded. "What do you think she's eating?"  
"Not sure. Ants probably. You could tell me the species, no doubt."  
"No doubt." Grissom gave her a quirk of a smile. "Do we have any food? I don't think ants would be very filling right now."  
"Yes!" Sara said, scrambling to her feet. "Six Power Bars." She fetched two and they opened and bit into them.  
"Okay. Here's the deal," Sara told him. "We have one liter of water left and no idea how long it will take for anyone to find us."  
Grissom nodded.  
"So we'll have to ration it. You're bigger and more dehydrated..."  
Grissom started to interrupt.  
"No, listen. We have to be fair and rational about this..."  
"I defer to your judgement, my dear. You're the captain of this lifeboat."  
Sara giggled. "Okay, then, you're the first mate." She blushed. My dear?  
"Ooh, first mate, huh?" Grissom teased. "I like the sounds of that." Sara nudged him with her elbow and grinned.  
"Hey, is that my shirt?"  
"No, I stepped out to Wal-Mart and bought it while you were sleeping." They both chuckled.  
"Seriously, Gil..."  
"Gil?" Grissom said, surprised. "You called me Gil."  
"Well, I did undress you and we did sleep together, so I think we're past the formalities."  
"You took my clothes off?" he snickered.  
"Yes, I did. And I had my way with you," Sara said with a glint in her eye.  
"Rea..lly?"  
"Yup, it was something, I tell you. I got you all nice and stiff and then...well let's just say I rode you hard and put you away wet."  
Grissom gazed at her for a beat. "I feel so used," he deadpanned.  
Sara burst into delighted giggles. God it's fun to flirt with him. Grissom was thinking the same thing.  
Grissom gave a regretful sigh. "If only I'd been awake to enjoy it."  
"You snooze, you lose, cowboy."  
"Don't you mean stallion? Since you were the rider."  
"Ha. Good one. I'll call you...Easy Ride then," Sara told him, snickering.  
"Sounds like a motor oil."  
Sara snorted. "You're just full of it this morning."  
"Yup. Full of bubbles and froth. Piss and vinegar. Fish and chips."  
Sara laughed at his silliness. "Who are you and what have you done with Gil Grissom?"  
"No idea. The old Gil Grissom was a boring old fart," Sara snorted at that. "Good riddance. The new and improved version was rescued by a beautiful princess, a fair maiden with the brains of a rocket scientist."  
"Thanks." Sara grew more serious. "I did kiss you, though."  
"You kissed me?"  
Sara looked down. "Yes."  
Grissom's eyes softened. "Now I do wish I'd been awake for that."  
Sara kicked at the dirt, not looking at him.  
"But I am, awake, now." Her head shot up.  
"Come here." Sara scooted a little closer, looking shy.  
Grissom struggled painfully to his feet, waited for a wave of dizziness to pass, then held out his hand.  
"Come here." Grissom tugged her to her feet. Before he could talk himself out of it, Gil leaned in and kissed Sara. The kiss, soft and gentle at first, quickly deepened. A flood of pent up sexual tension was released. The dam burst and was swept away, never to be rebuilt. Sara's mouth opened to receive his tongue and she let out a whimper. Grissom groaned in response. Their hands wandered over each other's bodies. Sara pulled him close.  
When they were just about to gasp for air, Gil pulled away and stroked her cheek.  
"You're so beautiful, Sara." She blushed charmingly.  
"You're a good kisser, Gil."  
"Thanks. Not bad yourself. It is better when both parties are conscious, isn't it?"  
"Damn straight it is." They kissed again, a happy, reassuring kiss that it was all real, that they were both alive and here, in this moment. Sara smiled against his lips, and he pulled back, smiling too.  
"I like this new and improved Gil Grissom. A lot."  
"Me too. The old one was an idiot."  
"Oh, I don't know. He had his moments," Sara told him.  
"Exactly. Moments, followed by years of utter stupidity." She quirked an eyebrow at him, considered, and agreed with a nod.  
Grissom swayed a little on his feet.  
"Hey. Hey. Let's sit you down, okay? You'd be in a hospital bed hooked up to all kinds of tubes, now." She helped him return to the ground and stretch out.  
"Yeah, if we weren't in Armpit of Hell, Nevada."  
Sara grinned. "Patient is exhibiting flashes of humor and silliness. Recommend a psych consult, stat."  
"You're cute. Wanna play doctor?"  
"Gris...som."  
"Sa...ra."  
"Hush. Have some water. Just four sips, okay?"  
Grissom nodded and drank the water gratefully. Sara took two sips and put it away.  
"Rest now." Gil lay back and Sara stretched alongside him, and rested her head in that perfection of anatomy, the hollow between a man's shoulder and chest, that cradles a woman's head so beautifully. They sighed contentedly, twined their fingers together, and dozed off.  
TBC  
A/N: Good job to you all on the inspired and creative (and some smutty) comments and ideas from the last chapter. Very funny stuff. Thanks. I love it. And to Nonnie88, you rock! (Nonnie has been reading through my smuttiest stories–some of them hardcore–and adding them to her Favorite Stories list, if you're curious. Very flattering.)  
HEAT  
CHAPTER SIX  
Grissom dozed off. Sara couldn't. She just closed her eyes until she heard his breathing even out. She was too energized by their conversation, and by what had just happened, and she needed to think it through.  
Grissom kissed me.  
I kissed Grissom.  
That kiss was hot. Sure was. Wow. Sara rubbed a finger gently across her lips, remembering, and gazing at Gil's lips.  
Why do I feel like a giggly schoolgirl? Why do I feel like yelling at the top of my lungs? Because we kissed, silly. At long last.  
So it took him nearly dying to kiss me, huh. I should have clunked him on the head years ago. Dragged him off like a cave woman. Sara grinned to herself.  
What next? Will he go back to Old Grissom when we go back home? If we get home. Her brows knit as she watched Grissom sleep.  
The team will find us. They're the best. Don't let him go back in his shell, though. Enough waiting around. Enough of being patient. Stand up to your feelings, and his, damn it. Her eyes narrowed with conviction.  
Sure do like it when he's cute and funny and flirtatious like that. God that was fun.  
Maybe he really has turned over a new leaf.  
Maybe we can have...a relationship. A real one.  
Hope we...get help soon. I suddenly want my life to go on and on, feeling this happy. This euphoric. Like life is full of joy and hope and happiness. Full of surprises.  
I love him.  
Does he know? Does he love me?  
He called me beautiful, and smart, and cute, and remarkably intelligent. That's a lot of progress. Major, especially for Gris. Maybe I should...take it slow. Let him adjust. Not expect him to be a Casanova instantly. She nodded to herself thoughtfully.  
The burning heat made her squirm. The sun was high up now, and beating straight down on the two of them. Oh help. Cripes. Poncho's no good. Can't rig it up on top of us.  
Sara got up carefully, checking to see that Grissom wasn't disturbed. She took her hat and laid it over his face. Cautiously unbuttoned his jacket, then moved away.  
"I need to find something," she murmured. "Some sort of shelter."  
She scanned the hillside, then decided to hike around the side and see if she could find a rock ledge or something. A cave would be ideal. Sara took off Grissom's shirt and laid it near his head.  
"If he wakes up while I'm gone, maybe he'll figure out I'll be back soon."  
Sara took a careful sip of water, scrunched the bottle in the sand near Grissom's sleeping body, and set out. She scrambled south along the loose rocks and steep slope, stepping carefully so she wouldn't slip or get hurt. It took most of an hour to go a quarter of the way around.  
"No luck." The slope was nearly smooth and gravelly, with lots of boulders at the base. But it gave her an idea.  
Sara kept going. The west-facing slope seemed more promising. And it was shaded, for now.  
"We could walk around to this side. It's not as steep either." Sara felt more confident.  
There seemed to be some sort of projection of rock up ahead. She scrambled on.  
Suddenly there was the unmistakable buzzing sound of a rattlesnake near her feet.  
Sara froze. She looked carefully until she saw the snake, curled in a ball, its tail sticking up, shaking and rattling. It was so well camouflaged that she found it more by sound than anything.  
Sara took a step backwards, very very slowly. Snakes hone in on movement and smell; they can't hear. They can feel vibrations though. And they zoom in on body heat. Careful.  
The rattlesnake didn't move. She took another very slow step backward, the breathed a sigh of relief. She was out of striking range.  
"Whew! That was a close one." Sara retreated, looking carefully around her. A flood of adrenaline made her pause, head down, holding her knees. She waited until her hands stopped trembling.  
If I'd tripped. Fallen on him. Stepped too close. No antivenin. No help. Not even Grissom knew where I was. I'd be a goner. Whew.  
Sara made her way back around their giant hill, as carefully as if she was walking on ice. Every shadow, every curve of rock looked like a snake now. After another sweaty hour she could see Grissom lying ahead in the sun.  
She knelt down beside him and caressed his cheek. Too hot. He's too hot again. Dammit.  
Sara shook him gently. Grissom moaned a little.  
"Gris. Gil, honey, wake up."  
He opened his eyes reluctantly and blinked up at her.  
"Hey."  
"Hey, Gil. We have to get out of the sun, okay? Do you think you can walk a little?"  
"I, uh. Yeah. Give me a second."  
She waited patiently, though she itched to drag him toward a little shade.  
Stay with me, love. Be strong.  
Grissom heaved himself to a sitting position. Moved his legs under him. Sara took his arm around her shoulders and held him around his back.  
"Ready? On three, okay?" He nodded sluggishly.  
"One. Two. Three." Sara pulled hard and could feel him try. He got to his feet, squinting and leaning on her. Sara braced her legs and waited.  
"Dizzy." Grissom moaned.  
"I know. I know, Gil. We won't go too far, okay? Nod when you're ready."  
He nodded. They made their way south, step by step. She paused and let him stand for a bit. Then tugged him on. Painfully slowly, they approached the pile of boulders on the base of the south slope.  
"Sit here a minute. I'll be right back."  
Sara found a stout stick and approached the rock pile. She found a space big enough for the two of them to lie in and poked around to make sure there were no more surprises lurking there. A few beetles and spiders and a lizard skittered away.  
Sara grasped Grissom's body again and pointed out where they were going. He nodded and they made it there. Sara let him brace his hands on the boulders and step around them. He lay down in a foot of shade next to a big boulder.  
"Good, honey. Take it easy. I'll go get our stuff now, and we can have a little water."  
She returned quickly, and when she said, "Water," Gil sat up. He took a few careful sips and smiled a little at her. Sara insisted on removing his jacket and asked if she could take his T-shirt off too. He agreed, and lay back on the cool sand beneath the boulder, sighing with relief.  
"Thank you."  
"You are very welcome. Just rest."  
Sara fiddled with the tripod and poncho contraption, tying the jacket to one end, and piling rocks to hold it out, until she was satisfied. Grissom watched her and felt his body temperature go down and his energy slowly return. The sand was actually quite cool, even damp, under the boulders, and they were both shaded. There was a yellow-green light over them. Sara stretched out gratefully and took Grissom's hand. He squeezed it and she smiled.  
"You...take good care of me, honey."  
"Yeah. You owe me, big guy."  
"I sure do. What would you like?" He sat up lazily and smiled into her eyes.  
"Let's see. A tall glass of ice cold beer."  
"Ooo does that sound good. I'll buy a pitcher, and we'll share."  
"Deal. And then–a plate of fries. No–nachos. With lots of salsa and guacamole and melted cheese."  
"And sour cream," Grissom added. "I'll have the same. Next course?"  
Sara grinned. "Hmm. Vegetarian chile. Nice and hot and spicy. Lots of ice water. More beer."  
"No doubt. Barkeep! Another round for the lady!" Sara giggled. "And a plate of quesadillas–no, your biggest sampler platter, for me."  
"And I'll try some of yours."  
"Help yourself." Grissom mimed pushing a plate her way.  
"Um, yummy," Sara said playfully. "It's nice and cool and dark in here, don't you think?"  
"Yup. Hey, there's a mariachi band. C'mere, fellas. Play something for us."  
Sara hummed something that sounded vaguely Mexican. Grissom grinned at her.  
"Would you like some dessert?"  
"Sure. Uh. Let's go get some ice cream. A swirly soft cone," Sara decided, grinning.  
"Sounds great. Sure you don't want a hot fudge sundae?"  
"Oh, you talked me into it. Two spoons."  
"Two spoons." He paused, looking all over her face affectionately, then shifted the CSI cap back to front.  
"You're so sexy when you wear it that way. Did I ever tell you?" Sara asked dreamily.  
"No, I think I would have remembered. You're always sexy." Sara hummed happily.  
Grissom brought a hand to her face. "Hey. You've got some whipped cream on your lip." He leaned in and kissed her.  
They kissed lazily, exploring each other, tasting and touching and finding their rhythm. Sara was entranced with the feel of Gil's bare chest under her hands and she explored it like it was a foreign country. Grissom moved his mouth down her long slender neck and nibbled and licked it, making her whimper and moan. All the time in the world. Sara teased his nipples and licked and breathed warm breaths in his ear. Grissom groaned deeply and shifted closer.  
She lay back and he moved over her. Their sweet endless kisses resumed. Grissom's hand wandered, stroking over her breast, his other hand buried in her silken hair.  
He pulled away. "Hey! You're not wearing a bra." He sounded like he had made a major scientific breakthrough.  
Sara giggled at him. "About time you noticed. I took it off last night."  
"How about that." He pulled the neck of her shirt down and peeked. Sara grinned at his expression.  
"Like what you see?"  
"Hell, yeah," Grissom breathed. "I see...perfection."  
"Wow." He pushed his hand up under her shirt, caressing reverently and peppering her with kisses.  
Sara's moans became deeper. She rolled him over, slid a leg over his and plundered his mouth.  
Grissom gently and reluctantly pushed her slightly away.  
"Hey. Hey. Honey, slow down."  
"Why?" her eyes were lidded and smoky brown. "This is fun."  
"I know. It is. Just..." He sat up, sighed, and rubbed his hands across his face.  
"What's wrong, Gil?"  
"Sara, honey. I want to make love to you. So badly." His blue eyes were pleading with her to understand. "But... I want to be strong. Fit. I want us to be in a cool bed, on sheets...I don't want to...disappoint you."  
"Never, Gil. You couldn't."  
"What if I...passed out again? Or stroked out?" Sara winced and nibbled her lip, considering.  
"I'd squash you like a bug," Gil said teasingly, hugging her close. Sara laughed and threw her arms around his neck.  
"Okay. I see your point. Just...promise me?"  
"What? Anything."  
"Promise me we won't go back to how it was before. Promise me you won't just forget all about this. Pretend it didn't happen."  
"I won't. I promise," Gil said sincerely.  
"Seal it with a kiss?" Sara whispered.  
"Okay." They kissed softly and lay down together, smiling into each other's eyes. With the bright promise of honey-sweet nights together, soon, they relaxed into an easy intimacy, murmuring softly and resting quietly. Hours went smoothly by.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER SEVEN  
The rescue effort was spiraling from a circus to a debacle. Cell phones didn't work and communication was slow and intermittent, mostly by Blackberries and similar devices. More cadets had been injured or overcome by heat and the paramedics had a tough time finding and lugging them back to the ambulances. There were some broken bones and two of the cadets had been bitten by rattlesnakes and one by a spider, which produced an angry welt. The nearest emergency room was filling up. Other ambulances were dispatched from more distant hospitals. Warrick and Nick were forced to round up as many of the police cadets as they could find and help them back to safety instead of searching for their friends.  
Progress across the desert sputtered and came to a halt. More and more cadets wandered back in, despondent and ashamed, overheated and exhausted. Det. Vega took a head count and of the forty, fifteen were unaccounted for. He debated whether out to send a different search party to find them, and eventually he did, consisting of some of the steadiest and most fit police officers available. Warrick and Nick finally reached the limits of their endurance and limped back in to base too.  
The fire department sent a tanker truck and set up an area to spray down the overheated searchers. More food was sent. No one had heard from the rangers.  
Brass was furious. "Snafu," he muttered angrily, remembering his Marine Corps days. "Situation normal, all fucked up." Seeing his scowl, nobody bothered him anymore. A helicopter finally arrived and gave them all a flicker of hope as it buzzed away. Realizing he was frazzled and beyond tired, Brass reluctantly asked for backup and went home for a shower and a few hours sleep.  
The attitude of the media shifted from supportive and friendly to critical and sarcastic. Sheriff Mobley watched the news reports and regretted his decision to notify them so quickly. The publicity turned harsh. They denounced the wisdom of sending the pair out in such harsh conditions with so little resources. Some were saying that Supervisor Grissom and CSI Sidle's survival was doubtful. The whole department was starting to look like incompetent idiots. Undersheriff McKeen worried about his political ambitions and laid low.  
Catherine and Greg arrived. She took one look at Warrick and Nick–stretched out in the dirt, their arms over their eyes-and sent them home. Catherine then radioed the sheriff and told him to get his ass out there and hung up on him when he sputtered something about insubordination. Then she radioed Ecklie and basically ordered him to get his people and the swing shift to cover graveyard. Not one of the night shift was reporting for work until Gil and Sara were found, she told him angrily. Ecklie was cowed by her tone (Catherine Willows was very scary sometimes) and he agreed to everything she demanded. Catherine then tended to the young and hurting cadets in her usual motherly fashion. It looked like a triage center.  
Sheriff Mobley arrived and stood in the glare of camera lights with microphones shoved in his face, trying to look confident and cool-headed. He assured the gathered media that everything was under control and every effort was being made to find the CSIs. Reporters who had been observing the whole time knew he was lying, so they responded sharply that a single helicopter had little chance to find two people in a vast desert, especially as nightfall was approaching. Mobley could only make a feeble response to their accusations and the attention was diverted from him in disgust.  
The original curious residents wandered home and were replaced by more impatient ones, who yelled and jeered at Mobley. He eventually pretended he had important business to attend to and drove away.  
Police finally sent a K-9 unit and the dogs sniffed inside the CSI vehicle (including Grissom's forgotten hat) and they tried to pick up a trail, but it was muddled by all the footprints and tire tracks and scents of everyone else. Their handlers finally located a cadet who had seen a promising trail of footprints and she went along to find it again, accompanied by Greg Sanders.  
The governor, under pressure, called out the National Guard. At dusk, a convoy of military vehicles pulled in. The commander talked to reporters and the sergeant explained the mission to the soldiers and they set out on foot, their flashlights bobbling.  
New footage of the Guard and K-9 units was broadcast, increasing and widening the interest of viewers to more distant parts of the country. The national media picked up the story, found background information on Dr. Gil Grissom and CSI Level 3 Sara Sidle, extolled their educational and professional achievements, their sterling work, and amazing solve rates. A few photographs, mostly from crime scenes, and of their old ID cards, were relayed from one TV station to another around the country and to the Internet. Fox News started a clock ticking on the time since the CSIs set out in the desert, at the bottom corner of the screen. Friends, colleagues, and even neighbors were interviewed.  
Doctors and survival experts issued dire warnings about dehydration rates, the effects of 100+ degree heat on the human body, and opined darkly on what might have caused their disappearance. No one knew exactly how much water and food and other critical supplies they had with them.  
Message boards were quickly set up and people posted all kinds of opinions and bickered with each other. Bloggers wrote blogs but no one read them.  
Grissom and Sara became folk heroes, of a sort. Schoolchildren made cards and posters and teachers gathered them to send to the Las Vegas police station and the CSI lab. Politicians appeared in front of cameras and looked somber and made the usual trite comments. It was assumed that Grissom, the strong man, was helping the weaker Sara. Feminists accused the media of sexism and that message was abandoned. Prayer vigils were held when darkness fell.  
At the CSI lab the mood was somber. Archie tried to pick up their location on the GPS unit but Grissom and Sara both had older model cell phones without that feature. Grissom had refused to get a new one as he wanted to avoid re-inputting all the data and numbers he had stored. Sara still had her original phone from her first days as a Vegas CSI and it had never crossed her mind to replace it. The CSI vehicle had a tracking device but they already knew where that was, so all their modern technology arrived at a dead end.  
Lab techs gathered in the breakroom, encouraged each other, and speculated optimistically on Grissom and Sara's survival skills and resilience. They shared stories about their missing friends and prayed for their safe return. Judy, the receptionist, started a scrap book of news clippings and downloaded articles from the Internet of the unfolding story. It helped steady her nerves. David Hodges called in sick with a nervous stomach and headache and watched the news nonstop, worried sick about his hero Grissom and his respected colleague and sometimes friend, Sara. Everyone on shift tried to work, distractedly. No one wanted to say it aloud but hopes of finding them alive were dwindling. Another long cold night was going by.  
And thirty-six hours had passed since Grissom and Sara were last seen.

HEAT  
CHAPTER EIGHT  
Grissom and Sara settled in under their makeshift shelter, legs outstretched and holding hands. They leaned against a boulder, talking of anything they pleased. She told him about the rattlesnake and he agreed that she was very lucky. He told her of previous experiences with snakes and other dangerous wild creatures and they swapped stories for a while, learning more about each other as the time passed.  
"If it wasn't for the water situation, I would say this was actually... a great adventure," said Sara.  
"Yeah. If we had plenty of water and more food, I'd say the same. Other than my body betraying me and breaking down, it's kind of been...fun," Grissom smiled at her. "The company is great."  
Sara grinned at him. "Yours too. If I had to be stuck out here with anyone, I'm glad it was you." Grissom squeezed her hand gratefully.  
The light faded and a dark shadow fell over their shelter. Grissom got goosebumps and put his T-shirt back on and tucked it in. Sara rubbed her legs and arms, then fetched the lip balm and asked Grissom to spread it on the nagging patch of sunburn on her back. He did so happily and continued up the back of her neck and down her shoulders, planting little kisses along the way and making Sara giggle. She offered him his shirt but he insisted she wear it.  
Sara returned the favor and smeared the balm on his arms and neck and face, avoiding his eyes.  
"My skin is so smooth and supple now," Grissom teased.  
"Kissably soft," Sara answered, demonstrating, and he chuckled.  
"I can't get used to how quickly the temperature goes down in the desert, at night," Sara commented. "It sucks."  
"You know, Sara, I think that's the first time I've heard you complain this entire time," Grissom observed. "You really don't whine about anything. It's admirable."  
"Never really thought about it," she shrugged. "Guess you're right. Complaining... doesn't help. It just makes the others around you miserable, and keeps you focused on whatever is bothering you, instead of just doing something constructive."  
"An excellent character trait. I'll try to remember that."  
"You don't complain much either, Gil. You're a cool-headed guy."  
"Thanks. That makes me think about what Catherine would be like in this situation." Sara cocked a quizzical eyebrow in his direction. Grissom explained, "I mean, she's a dear friend and a good scientist and a talented CSI, but if she and I hiked all the way out here in that heat, can you imagine? Constant whining. Worrying about whether we were lost or not. Bitching about everything and nothing. God! She'd drive me nuts." Sara smiled at him.  
"How do you think she would have handled it if you'd keeled over in front of her?" Sara asked, just as she was imagining it. They thought about that.  
"That's...hard to say. She does have nurturing instincts, so hopefully they would kick in." Sara agreed. "After she cursed me out roundly, of course." Sara chuckled at the thought. "She's a tough broad and would probably have made it out."  
"Without you?" Sara asked him.  
"I think so. She's not much for waiting around, and prefers to take action, even if it's ill-advised." Grissom answered thoughtfully, remembering times she had done just that. Sara nodded and agreed.  
"And Warrick? Or Nick?"  
"Nick is more of an outdoorsman, so I can see him doing some of the same things you thought of. Can't see him snuggling up to me at night though. Ugh." Sara grinned. "Warrick is a city boy, but he has a heart of gold. I think he'd try to carry me out. I'm a big guy, and he wouldn't get far. So he'd have to leave me and go for help too. And Greg would be...Greg."  
"Greg. Yeah, he might be panic-stricken for a while, but I think he'd try to make you comfortable and then go for help. He's pretty wiry. And does rugged stuff like scuba dive and surf. Then again he might stay with you."  
"Good point. I think he mentioned he was an Eagle Scout too. I have to stop under-estimating young Sanders." Sara grinned at him. She'd often tried to stand up for Greg and get Grissom to be more appreciative of him. "In any case," Grissom continued more somberly, "I think my condition would have...deteriorated rapidly...without someone with me. No one to give me water, or keep me in the shade. I could easily have gone into a coma. I could have...died."  
"Yeah," Sara said sadly. "You could have. I...would have..." she trailed off.  
"What, honey? Tell me."  
"I...would have...fallen to pieces. If you'd dropped dead, not just unconscious? I would have sat by you and wept and waited for someone to find us. For days. Whatever it took. Piled rocks–-a cairn-around you to keep the vultures away. Sat shiva. Cut off my hair with a dull knife and rubbed ashes on my face..."  
"Ashes!" Grissom yelled excitedly. Sara jumped at the sudden noise and the bizarre turn their conversation had taken.  
"Of course!" He scrambled out of the shelter. Sara followed him, puzzled.  
"A fire! Let's build a fire!" he shouted.  
"Of course!" Sara said excitedly. "Why didn't I think of that? You can see a fire for miles and miles in the dark. And the smoke in daytime. And it'll keep us warm all night!"  
"Let's do it!" Grissom immediately started gathering every scrap of wood he could find.  
Sara ranged further in the twilight, but when she brought an armful back she could see that Grissom was quickly tiring. She ordered him to pick a spot close but not too close to the shelter and tear up strips of notepaper from the kit. He knew she was right, and did so. Carefully, he assembled piles of twigs and slivers of wood, and took out his pocket knife and whittled shavings. Sara made repeated trips and returned with piles of firewood.  
Together, they built a small fire. They looked at each other in expectation and he lit a waterproof match from his kit. They watched the tiny flame lick the paper and sucked in a breath when the twigs and shavings caught too. Grissom added a slightly larger stick, and then another, and another, and the dry wood flamed up beautifully.  
They grinned at each other and their spirits rose.  
Grissom dug out two Power Bars and handed one to Sara, saying grandly, "Dinner is served." He found her bra and dangled it playfully from his fingers and she giggled.. They chewed their meager meal and washed it down with water. The bottle was more than half empty now. Mesmerized by the fire, they huddled together and watched it.  
"I don't know why it's taking so long for them to find us," Sara said tiredly.  
"I can't imagine either," he agreed.  
"We've heard nothing, seen nothing. Not a helicopter, not dogs, not shouting voices, not so much as a cloud of dust," she commented. "They know where we started from, and they know where we were going. If you draw a line from Point A to Point B, and follow it, shouldn't you be able to find us along that path?"  
"Makes perfect sense to me. Wonder what the hell is going on." They shook their heads.  
Sara dragged herself to her feet, got out her Maglite, and set out for more and more wood. She concentrated on finding the biggest pieces she could, so the coals would stay hot and bright and last till daylight.  
"Sara, honey. That's enough for the night. Rest now. Take it easy, okay?"  
"One more trip, promise."  
Sara came back with an entire gnarled dead mesquite bush and threw it triumphantly into the flames. Streams of golden sparks flew up and she laughed.  
Grissom cheered at the sight and urged her down beside him. She snuggled in close.  
"Lay down, honey. Lay your head in my lap. I'll tend the fire. You sleep."  
"All right, Gil." Sara laid her weary aching body down. "Thanks, hon. Good night."  
"Good night, honey. Sweet dreams."  
Sara laid her head in his lap and Gil stroked her hair and crooned old lullabies, softly, until she fell asleep.  
Grissom held her close, thinking about this wonderful woman curled up like a cat in his lap. How much she meant to him. He thought about their history since they'd first met and how she had remained the same all these years, both in physical beauty and spirited personality. Sara was a constant wonder. From time to time he tossed more wood into the fire and tried to ignore the stiffness in his joints and how cold his back felt leaned up against a rock, with just a damp T-shirt in between.  
Finally it got too much for him and he tried to move her gently so he could get his jacket and the poncho as a blanket. Sara was a light sleeper and she stirred.  
"Gil? What's wrong?" she said sleepily.  
"So sorry to wake you, dear. I'm just going to get the jacket and our blanket, okay?"  
"Mm..okay. Cold."  
Grissom carefully disassembled their shelter, cursing when he banged his knee on a rock in the darkness. Sara quietly snickered at him. He untied the jacket and put it on. Then he thought of something else and fetched latex gloves from the crime scene kit and handed a pair to her.  
"Good idea." Sara put the gloves on and smiled at him when her chilled hands instantly warmed. Grissom put a pair on too and they maneuvered the poncho until it covered their legs like the night before. He lay down behind her so she was closer to the fire and held her in his arms. Spooning as comfortably close as if they'd done so for years, they fell asleep.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER NINE  
Grissom woke up first. It was light out but still chilly. He threw some of their wood supply on the hot coals and smoldering logs and the fire flared up again. Grissom sat up on an elbow and watched Sara sleep, worrying about her. She looked pale and thinner and there were dark rings under her eyes. His stomach growled and he knew he had lost weight too. I need to lose some weight anyway. He thought about all she had done to keep them alive and thanked God for her, determined to carry more of the responsibility so she could keep her strength up.  
Sara moaned a little in her sleep and Grissom tried to soothe her, wondering if she was having one of her nightmares. He took off his gloves and stroked her face and hair and she awoke and looked up at him blearily.  
"Morning," she mumbled.  
"Good morning, Sara. How are you feeling?"  
"Thirsty. Head hurts."  
"Let's have some more water then."  
They sat up and Grissom handed her the precious water bottle. Sara stripped off her gloves and took a drink, then passed it back to him, and he did the same.  
"I could do with a cup of coffee," Grissom commented.  
"Um, yes. I'd even drink the day shift swill at this point." They chuckled.  
"Do you know what happens when a person is dying of exposure?" Sara asked.  
"No, not really."  
"Well, there's the craving for water of course. It gets so bad that all you can think about is water. Muscle cramps, cold hands and feet, because your circulation slows and your blood thickens. Hallucinations. Vomiting, sometimes. Your mouth swells up and your tongue turns black."  
"Stick out your tongue," Grissom told her. She did.  
"Still looks pink to me. How's mine?" He stuck his tongue out at her and she giggled. They continued for a bit, making funny faces at each other, and Grissom was pleased to hear her laugh again.  
"So we haven't gotten to that point yet. Rule of three," Grissom said.  
"Right. Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food."  
God I hope it doesn't take three more days to be rescued!"  
"It won't. No way. Hang on, honey. Be strong."  
"I'm trying, Gil. I just feel...so weak. Drained."  
"I know, dear. You've been working so hard, for both of us. Let me do more, okay?"  
She nodded, and they ate the last of the food with a little more water.  
"Did you know that people have been found dead, dead of thirst, and they still had water with them?" Sara said.  
"Really? Interesting. Do you think that they were hallucinating?"  
"Maybe," Sara answered. "Or their self-discipline overruled their body's needs. Or maybe the thought of having a little water left gave them hope."  
"How did you learn all this, Sara?"  
"Oh, I read a lot of survival stories when I was younger. Robinson Crusoe. Mutiny on the Bounty. Shipwrecks and castaways. That kind of thing. It helped with...made me feel like I could survive when things were really bad with my family. When my father was particularly violent."  
"If they could do it, so could you?" Sara nodded. "Tell me a story?" Grissom asked.  
"Okay." Sara thought for a minute. "There was a seaman named Poon Lim, whose ship was torpedoed in the South Atlantic during World War II. The U-boat surfaced and took the survivors–five I think–prisoner, but Poon Lim was left alone. He found a wooden life raft with some food and water. After a week out there he saw a ship and it approached, but then it turned and steamed away. He said that was the worst moment. Poon Lim thought about his mother back in Hong Kong, how strong and brave and resilient she was, and he made up his mind to follow her example. He used a spring from a flashlight to make a fishhook and trapped rainwater with some canvas. The hook was only big enough to catch tiny fish, not enough, so he painfully worked a nail loose with his teeth and made a bigger fishhook. After 100 days, an airplane spotted him and dropped a dye marker, but a storm blew up and the dye contaminated all his water and washed away all his food. Five more days passed under the broiling sun, drifting in the currents. Poon Lim drank his own urine, until his body couldn't produce any more, too dehydrated to even weep. A bird landed on the raft and he devoured it and that gave him a little strength.  
After 133 days, a world record which Poon Lim hoped would never be broken, a Brazilian fisherman rescued him. He had drifted 750 miles. But he was strong enough to walk ashore unaided. After his story came out, he was given many awards, including one from the English government: 'To Poon Lim, bravest of the brave.'"  
"Wow," Grissom said. "To Poon Lim."  
"The bravest of the brave."  
"Hear, hear." They toasted him with a little more water.  
"And I watch that show, Man vs. Wild...have you ever seen it?" Sara asked.  
"The one with the guy named Bear something? Yeah. He's brave too."  
"He is."  
The sun got hotter and Sara started to put their shelter back together, but Grissom told her to rest and he did it. She tossed some more wood on the fire and watched the smoke curl up.  
They moved under the shade and sat quietly, lost in thought.  
Sara heard a faint buzzing noise. She turned to Grissom and asked, "Do you hear that?"  
He nodded. The sound got louder and they scrambled out and looked to its source. There were two ATVs with riders in colorful gear and helmets, and they were getting closer, kicking up dust.  
"Hey! Over here!" Sara yelled, waving frantically. Her voice cracked and sounded weak to her own ears.  
Grissom waved his arms and bellowed, "HELP! Over HERE!" They both started moving in that direction, stumbling in their haste. One of the riders looked up at them and pointed at them to the other. The ATVs were coming straight at them now.  
They pulled up to a halt and took off their helmets. Two kids, a boy with curly blond hair and a dark-haired one who looked a little like Nick.  
"Are you the guys everybody's looking for?" the dark-haired one said.  
Sara and Grissom looked at each other and laughed. "That would be us, I guess."  
"I'm Mike, and this is Darryl," the dark-haired boy said, grinning at them.  
"So, so glad to meet you!" Sara said. They all smiled at each other.  
"Hey, want some water?" Darryl dug out bottles and handed them to them. Sara and Grissom drank deeply and Sara poured some over her head happily.  
"Ohh, that feels good."  
"Thank you for finding us," Grissom told them earnestly.  
"No problem. We saw the smoke."  
Sara grinned at him. "See, honey? I told you that was a good idea."

HEAT  
CHAPTER TEN  
Grissom and Sara stood talking with their teenage rescuers, all of them still feeling elated.  
"Do you know many people have been looking for you guys?" Darryl asked.  
"No idea," Grissom said. Sara just shook her head.  
"Tons," Darryl said. "Cops, scientists, police dogs, a helicopter, you name it. The governor even called out the National Guard. And you've both been on the news for, like, days."  
"Yet only the two of you were able to find us," Sara told the boys.  
"Yeah, well, we live around here. And we go ATV riding all the time," Mike said. "We were the ones that found that skeleton," he added proudly.  
"Shit! The skeleton!" Sara exclaimed. She looked at Grissom, who had an identical astonished expression.  
"I forgot all about it," Grissom said slowly.  
"Yeah, forgetting about a DB. That's a first for both of us." They smirked at each other.  
"We had more important things on our minds," Grissom told her, smiling.  
"Yeah. Poor guy, though," Sara responded, thinking of that lost soul out there alone for who knows how long.  
"How far away is it anyway?" Grissom asked.  
"Not far, maybe a quarter mile?" Mike asked his friend, who nodded. Mike pointed in the direction of their find and added a few directions. Grissom made a mental note to have the boys tell the CSIs where it was and have them go process it. Not us though!  
"Do you think we could all fit on your ATVs to get back?" Sara asked. They all eyed the compact machines.  
Darryl spoke up. "Yeah, we can fit, though it won't be comfortable. How far do you want to go?"  
"Back to where we started," Grissom answered simply.  
"Yeah, do you know where Route 377 is?" Sara asked. Darryl and Mike nodded. "About 3 miles northwest, past the ranger station, there's a gravel turnoff. That's where we left our SUV."  
"Wow. Damn, lady, that's like...over five miles!" Mike exclaimed.  
Sara shrugged. "It took us eight hours."  
Darryl looked at the pair with new respect. "You two hiked all the way out here? No wonder. Hey, what happened anyway?"  
"Mr. Grissom was overcome with heat stroke. He passed out," Sara said simply.  
"And Ms. Sidle saved my life," Grissom answered, just as simply, looking at her. She blushed and didn't meet his eyes.  
"So, we should get started then," Sara said, changing the subject. "Can we fit our gear too?"  
"What do you have?" Mike asked.  
"I'll show you. Come on." Sara led him up the hill and they packed up the supplies. Mike admired the shelter as they took it down and folded it up.  
"That's pretty smart thinking, Miss Sidle."  
"Call me Sara, Mike. You do what you have to do, right?"  
"Yeah," Mike answered admiringly. Wow she's pretty. Smart too.  
They returned and the boys moved stuff around until everything was strapped down.  
"You can ride with me, Miss Sidle," Darryl offered eagerly.  
"No, Sara is riding with me." They argued a little. Sara saw Grissom's glare and quickly agreed to ride with Mike. Grissom sat awkwardly on a knapsack behind the seat and put his hand on Darryl's belt and the other on his shoulder. He looked over at Sara. She was sitting close behind Mike and holding him around the waist. The familiar jealousy arose but he concentrated on her beautiful happy smile, directed at him, and they set off.  
The ATVs moved sluggishly with the extra weight, but they made fair progress. Grissom bounced uncomfortably and gripped tighter. Don't want to fall off–that's all I need, he thought, feeling foolish and ancient and too big.  
Sara, on the other hand, looked delightfully at ease. When the terrain got rocky she stood on the footrests like a winning jockey, gripping Mike's shoulders with tight fists, her brown hair streaming behind her. God it feels good to be moving again!  
After an hour, Sara spotted a group of people toiling along and shouted to Mike, who swung in their direction. The two ATVs pulled up before the small group, three worn-out handlers with three worn-out searcher dogs, and Greg, whose tongue was hanging out nearly as much as the bloodhounds.  
"Greg!" Sara leapt off and grabbed him. Greg's face lit up and he hugged her joyfully.  
"Sara! Oh my God it's good to see you! Are you okay?" She just beamed at him.  
Grissom climbed off stiffly and greeted Greg, who pumped his hand. They grinned at each other, not needing to say anything. The dogs sniffed around their legs, panting happily, tails wagging. Sara patted their big heads and told them what good boys they were and one licked her face, which made her laugh.  
Grissom quietly asked Greg if he could make it to the skeleton and process it.  
"I guess so," Greg answered, considering, "It's probably closer than walking all the way back."  
"Yes, it is. Darryl and Mike, here, will tell you how to get there." Sara got the crime scene kit and handed it to Greg, wishing him better luck than they had.  
"We can...send a helicopter to pick him up?" Sara suggested.  
"Good idea, Sara," Grissom said. "Best of luck to you, son."  
Greg looked surprised and nodded to him.  
"And Greg?" Grissom added emotionally. "Thank you. For looking for us."  
Greg swallowed the lump in his throat. "You would have done the same for me, Gris. And you too, Sara." Sara hugged him again. Grissom cleared his throat and nodded, knowing he was right.  
"You would have found us, too. You did very well."  
"Thanks, Gris. I...I'll see you...back at the lab, then?"  
"Yes. You will." They exchanged another warm smile and Grissom and Sara climbed back on the ATVs and drove away. They ground along for another hot uncomfortable hour, until they came across the long line of Guardsmen. The soldiers recognized them before they came to a halt and they whooped and yelled and threw their caps in the air. Sara grinned and Grissom smiled at them as they crowded around, asking lots of questions. Grissom answered them succinctly and thanked them all.  
Grissom asked the sergeant in charge to radio for a helicopter to pick up Greg Sanders and he did so immediately.  
Feeling better about his youngest CSI continuing on through the hot desert, doing his job without question, Grissom walked over to Sara and tugged her away from her new admirers.  
"You were right about Greg, Sara," he told her. "He's a good man."  
"So are you, Gil. So are you. You taught him well."  
"So did you, honey." He leaned in and kissed her and it deepened until the soldiers made them laugh with their comments and jokes.  
"Yeah, yeah," Grissom said good-naturedly, waving as they rode off again.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER ELEVEN  
Grissom was amazed at himself. I just kissed Sara in front of all those guys. And it was great. It was magnificent. It felt right and good and true. It's about time. The cold bands around his heart snapped. I'm proud of myself. I am a new man. Damn if I don't like me!  
The rest of Sara's journey was a blur. She was immersed in musing about that kiss. That's three. Three huge steps for Gilbert Grissom. One small step for man, one giant leap for Sara, she thought, grinning to herself. She glanced at the object of her thoughts, bouncing along, and admired him.  
One, our first kiss. Two, the oh so hot makeout session and his declaration of wanting to make love to me, someday, in the near future. And three, a public kiss, yes in front of strangers, but without hesitation or his usual cold reserve! Wow. Just wow.  
Sara knew that part of it was his need to declare that she was his, and that all those young horny flirting men should recognize that. Surprisingly, she didn't mind. At all. Sara had been ready to announce her love and devotion to Grissom for years, audience be damned. But it was mind-boggling and so out of character for him.  
When have I seen him be physically affectionate with anyone else? Ever? I can't remember. A brush of my shoulder, a chaste handhold, those careful secret glances and hidden smiles, all those moments that I cherish in my memory. Those had always meant so much, even more than if he had suddenly gone on one knee and announced that she was his one true love in front of all the CSIs and lab rats and the entire LVPD. Sara would have thought he'd gone bonkers if he'd done that. But now, now, it was real, at last, not just wishful thinking or projected fantasy. We are a couple. Sara smiled to herself.  
Subconsciously, she eased back on her hold around Mike's waist and gripped his jacket instead. Sara had grown used to being hit on by men, even some women, ever since puberty. Being called beautiful, sexy, hot, pretty, was not a new experience. Yet she had always been careful not to lead her admirers on and to gently discourage those she felt no reciprocal desire for, without hurting their egos or feelings. It was second nature, part of her innate kindness and sensitivity and empathy. After all, Sara well knew the pain of unrequited love and passion. The humiliation of rejection. All of that.  
I need to wrap my head around New Grissom, yet know that this is a difficult journey for him, one that he's both dreaded and desired for so long. I cannot expect him to undergo a complete personality change overnight.  
Let him lead. Let him do whatever he feels and is ready for. Let him be the man. My man. Sara wanted to burst into song. All those heartfelt lyrics and love ballads streaming through her mind and tangling on her tongue suddenly seemed like chapter and verse of some wise book.  
Love is all you need.  
The empty desert was cluttered in the distance with vehicles and people. As they grew closer, Sara and Grissom both braced themselves for the barrage of questions and attention they knew was coming. Both were intensely private people. Both hated the spotlight. But there was no avoiding it now.  
The crowd of people instantly surrounded them. Everyone, from complete strangers to vague acquaintances to familiar faces, yelled and waved and urgently tried to get their attention. It reminded Grissom of a stirred up anthill. All that empty space around them disappeared and they were pushed and pulled and shouted at. Sara spotted Warrick's tall frame above the crowd and fought her way over to him. His face was transformed with relief. Warrick swept her into a big hug and off her feet for a moment.  
"Hey, girl!"  
"Hey yourself!"  
"You made it. You're okay? Gris is okay?" Warrick asked, his green eyes sparkling.  
"We're great. Man, it is so good to see you."  
Grissom was there and the two men hugged awkwardly but both didn't care.  
"Warrick."  
"Gris. It's great to see you back."  
"Where's Nick? Catherine?"  
Warrick laughed his easy deep laugh. "Nick had a touch of the sun and had to go home. Cath–I don't know. She's around here somewhere. Brass is over there."  
Brass was standing back, just beaming at the two of them. Never had he looked so happy.  
But the persistent questions and intruding microphones couldn't wait any longer.  
"Mr. Grissom! What happened?"  
"Miss Sidle! Over here! Where were you?"  
"How did you get lost? Are you hurt?"  
"Who found you?"  
The last was the only one Grissom cared to answer.  
"Folks! I'd like you to meet Mike and Darryl. Our rescuers." The cameras and lights and eyes swung in the boys' direction.  
"How did you find them? Where? What'd you do? Who are you guys?"  
"I'm Mike Regan and this is my buddy Darryl Bashford." Pens scribbled on notebooks. "We saw the smoke of a campfire and then they came running out of their shelter..." Their interrogation faded into the background as paramedics approached and declared importantly that both were going to the hospital to be checked out. Sara feebly tried to protest but was completely ignored and they were shuttled into a waiting ambulance. It zoomed away in a cloud of dust, siren blaring. Some of the vehicles peeled out after them.  
They were made to lie down. Needles were inserted in their arms. Oxygen tubes in their nostrils. Temperatures and blood pressures taken. Eyes and mouths checked. Bodies prodded and tugged in all directions.  
"Does this hurt? Any pain? What are your symptoms? How do you feel? Any dizziness? Nausea?" on and on they were asked.  
Grissom silently submitted, exchanging a grin with Sara.  
"Looks like dehydration," the female paramedic said.  
"Hear that Grissom? We're de...hy...drat...ed," Sara said sarcastically.  
"Gosh. Really? Here I thought I was just thirsty." They smirked at each other.  
"Got any food?" Sara asked her.  
"Food?" the paramedic looked taken aback.  
"Yeah, you know, food." Sara mimed eating as she chuckled. Grissom bit back a laugh.  
"We're hungry. One Power Bar a day for three days is not exactly filling," he added.  
"How about a beer?" Sara was enjoying this. Grissom was laughing. The paramedics pretended not to hear them, radioing ahead to the ER.  
Both protested and were ignored when they were brought in on stretchers and then the white coats and colored scrubs replaced the dark blue jackets. The same questions repeated. The same vitals checked. The same procedures carried out. Grissom heaved a tired sigh and even Sara lay back and let them do their thing. The rest can wait a little longer.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER TWELVE  
Sara and Grissom lay in hospital beds, separated only by a thin curtain. Their clothes had been removed and replaced by standard hospital gowns. Sara kept up her banter with the nurses, who only shook their heads at her, and she could hear Grissom chuckling.  
Finally the medical staff went out to tend to urgent cases. The tedium was relieved by the TV high up on the wall that both were watching. They were the subject of the news.  
"Gosh. I look awful," Sara said. In the TV images her hair was matted and squashed by hat hair, she had streaks of mud and dirt all over her face and body, her formerly white tank top was brown and yellowed with sweat, and her face red and shiny with sunburn.  
"Honey, you couldn't look bad if you tried. You're beautiful."  
"You're kidding, right?" Sara blushed.  
"Nope. I've seen you in greasy coveralls, I've seen you sweaty, I've seen you tired, I've seen you with your clothes covered in blood and decomp. I've never seen you look anything but beautiful. And your hair is more blonde now, lightened by the sun."  
"Flatterer," Sara said softly.  
"Hey. Look at me–filthy and scraped up and red as a tomato. "  
"You're always handsome, Gil. You're the most handsome man I've ever seen."  
Now it was Grissom's turn to blush. He had no answer. There was a pause as they mused on the freedom to compliment each other. This is nice.  
Catherine and Warrick strode in and she barraged them both with questions, sweeping back the curtain. Grissom decided to have a little fun, still giddy from their rescue.  
Putting on his best poker face, he interrupted. "Catherine. How's the case load? Paperwork caught up? Any new cases I should know about?"  
Catherine stared at him open-mouthed.  
"Have you heard from Greg? Did he get his evidence to the lab yet? How's Nick? Have all the rescuers returned safely? Where's Brass?" Grissom said in a rush, as Catherine sputtered at him, with too many things to say all at once. Warrick and Sara exchanged looks of amusement and kept their mouths shut.  
"How far did you get?" Grissom demanded.  
"Get? Get where?" she said, utterly confused.  
"How far did you go on foot to search for us?" Grissom finally let Catherine speak.  
"I, uh. I didn't. I didn't go..." she looked stunned.  
"Really? What did you do? There must have been a lot of bad guys to chase, then."  
"No. I, uh, haven't been back to the lab since you two went missing," Catherine said weakly.  
"Interesting," Grissom said. Finally his hidden smirk emerged and he couldn't hold back his chuckle.  
Catherine burst out in a combination of indignation, relief, and amusement.  
"Gilbert Grissom you are an evil man. Here I've been worried sick. About you and Sara. And you! You..." The room filled with laughter and Catherine joined in. She smacked him on the arm and he pretended it was painful.  
"Hey. Watch the sunburn."  
"Sorry. No I'm not! I'd throttle you if I weren't so damn glad to see you alive."  
"Sorry, Cath. Just having a little fun," Grissom said, grinning at her.  
"I know, I know." She switched to a new topic, determined to turn the tables. "Hey. Just how much fun did you two have out there, huh?"  
"Oh, it was a blast," Sara answered sarcastically. "Hot, thirsty, exhausted, Gris passed out from heat stroke for eight hours...a real party."  
Catherine took her hand and they looked at each other with affection.  
"Sorry. It must have been hell."  
"It was. Some of the time. It was...a learning experience. For both of us," Sara said somberly. Warrick moved around to the other side of the bed and kissed her on the head.  
"You...you take it easy, okay? Take as much time as you need. You too, Gris." He moved over to Grissom's bed and patted him on the arm. "No work. No worries. We got you both covered," he told his boss, biting his lip to stop from getting all mushy.  
"I know you do. Thank you, Warrick. You too, Catherine," Grissom said shakily, pushing down his own emotions. They all looked at each other.  
"Okay! You guys need anything?" Catherine asked.  
"Just to go home?" Grissom answered.  
"A shower, a hot meal, my own bed?" Sara added.  
Warrick and Cath smiled at them.  
"I think that can be arranged." She strode out and they could hear her loudly confront the first person she encountered.  
"That was mean, Gris," Sara told him.  
"It was. Funny though."  
"Yeah."  
A harassed-looking young doctor strode in.  
"Miss Sidle, Mr. Grissom, you aren't my patients, but I'll see what I can do about getting you released as soon as possible, okay?" He hurried back out.  
There was an awkward silence. Warrick spoke up. "Hey, now that I know you're both okay, I'll...uh...get back to work. Check on Nick and find out about Greg."  
"Good idea, Warrick. You do that. Keep in touch," Grissom told him. "Thanks again."  
"No problem." He left.  
There was a long wait until their physician came in.  
"Miss Sidle, you can go as soon as you want. You're as healthy as I've seen all day. Mr. Grissom, I'm afraid we need to keep you a while longer. We're concerned about the length of time you were unconscious and we're going to run some tests."  
"What kind of tests?" Sara asked before Grissom could respond.  
"Urine tests," Dr. Ratnasamy answered. "We need to check out kidney function. And do a brain scan. I'm also concerned about your high blood pressure. Heat stroke is a serious condition. It can do some permanent damage to your organs."  
They were quiet as they processed this.  
"All I can say for certain at this point is that you need to avoid getting overheated or spending too much time in the hot sun. For the rest of your life. You will be susceptible to a repeat of these symptoms- and the next time you may not be so lucky," Dr. Ratnasamy concluded grimly.  
"Yes, doctor. I understand. Thank you."  
The doctor nodded and hurried out.  
"Good thing-we work on the night shift," Grissom finally said. "I can stay in the dark like a- vampire."  
"Yeah."  
"I'll have to, uh, take better care of myself."  
"Yeah."  
"Lose some weight. Eat better. Exercise. Get more rest," Grissom continued with a conviction he didn't really feel. "This is...a good thing. A wake-up call. I'm not a kid anymore."  
"Yeah," Sara repeated flatly.  
"Honey?"  
"Mmm?"  
"You okay? You're quiet."  
"Just thinking," Sara muttered, staring at her hands twisting the bed sheets.  
"About what?" he asked hesitantly.  
"Everything. Nothing. I don't know," she said distractedly.  
"Sara? Come here. Please."  
She got out of bed and stood by him, a foot away, not meeting his eyes.  
"Sara. Baby. Come over here," Gris said huskily.  
She took a step forward and Grissom grabbed her hands and pulled her down into a hug.  
Sara burst into tears she didn't realize were forming. She sobbed into Grissom's neck and he held her.  
"It's okay. Everything's going to be okay," he told her, over and over.  
"Oh, Gil. I thought this was over, you know? That we could just go back to the way things were. And you and I..."  
"I know, honey. I know. I did too. Don't worry. You and I...we are...we're not going to go back to the way things were. Okay?"  
She gave him a watery smile and he stroked the tears from her face.  
"I did promise you," he whispered. Sara nodded.  
"And I keep my promises." Sara hugged him tight and heaved a tired sigh.  
"Kiss me?" Grissom asked hoarsely.  
"Always." They gently kissed, brushing their lips together and feeling the warmth. Gil tasted the corners of her mouth and tenderly kissed her on the forehead. The conflicting emotions they both felt were eased. She pulled back a little, still holding him around the shoulders, and their eyes communicated a thousand things.  
"Gil! Sara!" a male voice exclaimed.  
They jerked apart guiltily.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
It is a short distance from fright to anger. Grissom, with every pent up emotion he had stored, every emotion known to man, flooding his entire body, reacted with anger.  
"What the hell! Don't you knock?"  
"The door was open?"  
Grissom huffed, glaring at the intruder. Sara stood trembling, arms crossed, not knowing what to say or do. She felt naked and was, nearly so.  
"Sorry?"  
They all stared at each other.  
"Don't do that," Grissom finally muttered.  
"Sorry Gil. I really am."  
"S'okay," he mumbled.  
"Sara, uh, you might want to get back in bed. You're getting company. Right behind me." He kept glancing at her long naked legs, trying hard not to.  
"Oh!" Sara scrabbled back on to the bed. Grissom caught a quick glimpse of her bare bottom and the anger was replaced by naked lust. He fought it all down.  
"What do you want Jim."  
Brass heaved a relieved sigh. Damn I'm glad it was me that walked in here...Sara's open gown, hugging Grissom...  
"I've got to take your statements. You know, write up a report on what happened. Insurance and liability and all that crap," Brass said in a professional tone. He whipped out a notepad and clicked a pen and opened his mouth.  
Sheriff Mobley strode in.  
"Dr. Grissom! Ms. Sidle! So good to see both you in one piece," Mobley said importantly.  
"Sheriff," Grissom said flatly. Sara just nodded to him, smoothing the sheet across the lower half of her body.  
"So! How are you all feeling?"  
"Fine, thanks, and yourself?" Brass smirked. Mobley shot him a glare.  
"You know we all have a lot of questions. Let's get through this as quickly as possible, okay?" Mobley continued. "So, what happened?"  
"Dr. Grissom was overcome by heat stroke."  
"Ms. Sidle saved my life."  
"He passed out and I tended to him until he regained consciousness and we waited until we were found."  
"Ms. Sidle exercised excellent judgement and resourcefulness and should receive a commendation. As well as those young men, Darryl Bashford and Michael Regan."  
There was a pause.  
"Is that all you're going to tell me?" the sheriff said in surprise.  
"Yes," Grissom replied calmly.  
"I was just about to take their statements," Brass explained. "I'm sure that will clear everything up." Sheriff Mobley nodded and took a seat, listening as they went through their experiences and Brass wrote everything down.  
"So, what's the diagnosis?" Mobley asked when the statements were concluded.  
"I believe that is between me and my doctor," Grissom said calmly.  
"Oh! Of course...I didn't mean...uh." There was an awkward silence.  
"Look, Gil, I need you–and Miss Sidle of course-well done–very impressed-to hold a press conference..."  
"That's your forte, John, not mine."  
Mobley put on his fake smile. "Just this once, Gil. Sara. The press...well, we need to throw them a bone, you know. You are both quite the celebrities."  
Grissom stared at him. Sara rolled her eyes.  
"Listen. The lab, the department, hell, the entire Nevada law enforcement community has gone all out on your behalf. And we've gotten a lot of attention and uh, support, and I think that our lab could benefit...we've already received some sizable donations...and fan mail. You should see it. Stacks of cards, letters, from all over the country..."  
"I see. In that case, I see your point. Sara?"  
"Yes?"  
"Would you be willing to hold a press conference with me?" Grissom said politely.  
"Sure. Does anyone mind if I go home, have a shower, eat, and change into clean clothes?" she said with a touch of sarcasm.  
"Of course! Naturally. Great. Thank you both," Mobley said, relieved. "I'll just go and set it up...back at the lab...in three hours?"  
"Three hours. See you there." Mobley left.  
Grissom rang for the nurse. Brass helped Sara search for their clothing. Their nurse strode in and Grissom explained that they needed to discharge themselves and he would return for his medical tests as soon as possible and follow up with his personal physician as well and could they please have their clothes so they could leave? She could find no objection since they both seemed healthy as horses so she just paged the doctor and got his consent and they signed the paperwork and were rolled out in wheelchairs to Brass's car and he drove them away.  
"Where to first?"  
"Sara's apartment?" she nodded. "Then mine? Then we can pick her up and have some dinner and go feed the beast. And get some rest."  
"Sounds like a plan," Brass said. "I'm buying." They got through it all. Endured it. The dozens of "How are you's?" and welcoming handshakes from their coworkers and the repetitive questions from the press and the glare of lights and attention. They were careful to stand a proper distance apart and both answered them all professionally. The dinner with Brass was fun, though, and they were able to joke and kid each other, though none of them brought up the intimate moment that Jim had interrupted.  
When all the excitement had died down and the parking lot was empty and quiet and dark again, Grissom walked Sara to her car. Neither really knew what to say.  
"So," Grissom said.  
"Yeah?"  
"Uh. How much time will you need? Off? As your boss I..."  
"You've always been more than a boss to me, Grissom," and they smiled at each other, remembering, their eyes soft.  
"Yeah. And you've always been more than an employee. Or a student. A friend."  
"I know," Sara whispered.  
"I'd like to kiss you right now," Grissom told her quietly.  
"Me too." They couldn't seem to stop looking in each other's eyes. The distance between their bodies seemed much further than it really was. "I...should go," Sara added hesitantly.  
"Me too. Go home, Sara. Get some rest, honey," he whispered.  
"Call me later?"  
Grissom smiled, so tender, his eyes shining. "Yes. I will."

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
Grissom and Sara drove tiredly to their respective homes. Both collapsed on their beds, barely able to kick off their shoes and trousers before deep sleep claimed them. Both slept more than 9 hours, never turning over or shifting in their sleep. They awoke within minutes of each other, yawned, stretched, rubbed their eyes and wandered to their kitchens, fetching glass after glass of cold water and drinking them down happily.  
Grissom took another long hot shower, washed the last of the sand from his hair, then trimmed his beard. Sara took a deep hot bath up to her puckered nipples and rubbed lotion on her aching muscles and pampered herself. Grissom wandered about his townhouse, trying to take care of neglected business, but he couldn't concentrate on anything. He suddenly realized he was carrying his cell phone from room to room, without remembering having picked it up.  
He dialed the first number on speed dial. Sara picked it up on the second ring.  
"Hi."  
"Gil." His name was a puff of breath.  
"Sara." Her name was a needy sigh. "Are you home?"  
"Yes."  
"Can I...see you?"  
"I'll be waiting." He heard her warm hum and then a dial tone.  
Grissom drove just over the speed limit, Sara's image much more vivid in his mind than the road. Sara only just remembered to call off work, no one was terribly surprised, and then she turned off the phone and unplugged the one by the bed. She felt compelled to stand, waiting, by the door. Her hand rested lightly on the doorknob.  
A knock and Sara opened it to Gil, his hand still up in the air. She reached out and guided him inside and into her welcoming arms. Their bodies melded together naturally, easily, and their hot lips met. The kisses were deep, hungry, aching, needy, hot, slick, open-mouthed, tender, passionate, thankful. Sara sucked his tongue into her mouth and he whimpered and dug his fingers in her sleek damp hair. Gil ran his tongue along her teeth, into and along that intriguing gap, and licked the underside of her tongue and played with it. They swallowed each other's whimpers and moans of need and pleasure. Sara sucked his lower lip between her teeth and slid her hands across his face and beard and sexy grey curls. He ran his hands down her sides and lightly across her ass and she shivered. She stroked the muscles of his back. He cupped her face in his palms and tilted his head in for more. More. I need more. Closer. I want you.  
"Oh, Sara." Gil pulled her body tight against his. She rubbed her aching body against his bulging groin and he groaned with desire. His lips found a perfect spot below her ear and licked it as hot darts shot to between her legs. Grissom mouthed and licked and sucked down that long slim column of a neck and he bit across the junction of muscle and shoulder lightly. Sara gasped and leaned her head back in perfect surrender, pushing both hands up under his shirt and feeling the heated flesh.  
"God, Gil. I need you."  
He grunted in assent and cupped his strong hands under her thighs. Sara jumped up and wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. He carried her easily, but when they grazed and paused against a wall their kisses became frantic and wild. They stumbled into the dim bedroom, their minds awash with sensations. Neither heard the word no in their brains.  
Gil slid her body down his hard body and she attacked his clothes. Grissom tugged her shirt off and buried his teeth on her bra-clad breast and she stroked his erection beneath his straining briefs. Their sounds became louder and more intense and their breaths were hard hot gasps. Gil pushed the straps down her shoulders and sucked on her perfect stiff nipples and she moaned and thrust against him. Intently, they removed every stitch and kissed and stroked and touched and licked all that warm soft skin.  
Sara stroked his leaking stiff throbbing cock and cupped his warm balls. Gil panted and groaned and picked her up and laid her on the bed and her thighs fell open for him. He quickly buried his entire face in her hot wet pussy, intoxicated with her scent and taste and feel of his tongue and mouth pleasuring her. Sara all but screamed in delight and he growled deeply. He parted her folds with his nose and lips and thrust his warm stiff tongue inside her, pumping, as his hand and thumb circled her clitoris.  
Sara thrust her hips up rhythmically into his face, climbing up to ecstasy. Gil replaced his tongue with a finger, then sank two into her. He curled and stroked his fingers back toward him and her head thrashed around the pillows and her fingers dug into his scalp. Gil sucked her erect clit into his mouth and squeezed it as hard as he could with his lips and tongue, stroking a nipple. Sara came, hard, with a wild keening cry and a burst of white hot light behind her eyes. Gil watched her as her body went stiff and then, trembling, stilled, his eyes dark, his mouth and beard wet and glistening, then he backed away and dug through the pockets of his jeans.  
Sara came down from her incredible high and saw the little packet in his fingers.  
"Let me," she said hoarsely, reaching and tearing it open with her teeth.  
Gil stood before her, naked and aroused and glorious. Sara knelt at the foot of the bed and admired him, stroking his hips. Grissom laid a hand on her head, his heart pounding. She kissed the warm dark red head of his cock and it twitched and his hips thrust and another drop of precum appeared. She sucked it off, only pulling the very tip in her wet hot mouth, then rolled the condom down his length and squeezed him gently. Grissom sucked in a breath and hissed through his teeth.  
He put his hands on her kneecaps as she scooted back on the bed, legs apart. Gil followed her on his knees and when they were both fully on the bed he slid his entire body down and slickly entered her halfway.  
"Oh honey, you're so tight. So hot and wet and good." Sara growled and gripped his creamy white ass. They stilled for a sweet moment and then he moved his entire length into her slowly, pulling out inch by rigid inch, and then thrust back in. Again he slid out slowly and back in.  
The heated air became scented with their combined musk and loud with whimpers and cries and sex-maddened moans and grunts of effort.  
Gil moved in her in a rocking slow pace and her hips rose to meet his and they moved together, faster. Harder. Deeper. Faster. Sara pulled him deeply into her with every thrust. He raised her leg to beneath his arm and shifted to one hip and fucked her like a madman, coming midthrust with his face grimacing and fireworks in his head and tears starting from his eyes at the incredibly long burst of pleasure and joy and fulfillment. Sara felt another hot sweet orgasm and his warm come through the thin latex and they became boneless and breathless and weightless and warm.  
Gil rolled to his side, groaning, and pulled out and stripped off the condom and tossed it. He lay back, a taut-muscled arm behind his head, watching as she slid a hand over his sweat-slick body, dipping it in the wetness between his legs and hers and smearing it on his belly. She peppered his body with warm little grateful kisses and he stroked her head and tucked her hair back to look at all that beauty.

 

 

HEAT  
CHAPTER FIFTEEN  
Sara lay sprawled across Gil's naked body, both of them blissfully savoring the feeling flesh against warm flesh and the freedom to look at the other's beautiful sated face. Her arms were folded and her head rested on her hands, and it jerked upward as she spoke.  
"Gil. You make me so happy. I've never felt this good."  
"And you as well, Sara. I feel...perfect."  
"Yeah," she said, smiling warmly.  
Gil lightly stroked along her back and perfectly rounded ass, raising goosebumps which he then smoothed.  
"You have beautiful eyes, Sara."  
"So do you. Especially when they are all warm and soft like now."  
"Thank you."  
"You know that I was, uh...sexually adventurous, when I was younger," Sara said shyly.  
Grissom nodded.  
"But it was never like this. Never. Part of it was all the desire that I've felt for so long. And how turned on I was. But..."  
"Yes?" Grissom asked gently.  
"I never...climaxed before just from..."  
"Cunnilingus?"  
Sara made a face. "Ugh. I hate that word. Sounds like a skin condition." Grissom chuckled. "From oral sex. I thought I did, but damn...you brought me off like a rocket."  
"Good. I'm glad." Grissom's heart swelled with pride.  
"Yeah. So–thank you?"  
He chuckled. "You're welcome, dear. I've never...felt that intense an orgasm either."  
"Really?" He nodded.  
"You rocked my world, baby. The earth moved." Sara giggled at him.  
"Hey. Would you like some water?" Grissom asked.  
"Sure. Can't get enough of the stuff now. I'll get it." She got out of bed and kissed him. Grissom admired her perfect body as she walked away, nude and at ease.  
They sat together and sipped their water, his arm around her and her hand on his thigh.  
"You hungry?" Sara asked.  
"Sure am."  
"Pizza? Chinese?" she suggested.  
"Can we get both?"  
Sara giggled. "Why the hell not. I think we both need some extra calories." She ordered and when it arrived she put on a robe and paid and tipped the boys generously. Grissom put on some clothes and they ate until they were stuffed, kissing between bites.  
Grissom tugged her willingly back to bed and began to make love to her, exploring the sensuality of parts of her body that he never dreamed would turn them on so much; her feet and toes and the insides of her elbows and knees, as she growled and told him how good it all felt. He kissed her wrists for a long time, resting his lips against the skin and feeling the pulse of her heart. He licked up the inside of her arm and she gasped.  
Burying his face in her armpit, Gil said, muffled, "You smell so good, baby."  
"Really? I don't stink?"  
"Nope. You smell like flowers and sun and Sara."  
She grinned and rolled him over and did the same, inhaling deeply in the pit of his arm. "Mmm, yes. You smell like-musk and warm puppies and the air after it rains."  
"That's beautiful."  
"Yeah. We are." They smiled at each other. Sara kissed him, warm and languid, and their tongues played for a long time. When she suckled his neck and throat, feeling the soft bristles of his beard against her face, they grew more passionate. Gil caressed and sucked her breasts as his cock got bigger. Sara moved down his body, kissing and licking and sucking and pausing at his sensitive nipples, as she caressed him between the legs. Grasping the base, she closed her mouth around his prick and Gris gasped and arched back. She sucked him avidly and stroked in turn, wetting her hand in her pussy until her mouth and hand glided around him.  
Holding him firmly with both hands she sucked on the darkening head until he was squirming and begging.  
"Fuck my mouth Gil," she told him huskily, and his eyes widened. She nodded and released her grip and sucked his cock in to the curve of her tongue and stopped.  
Hesitantly, he started to thrust up into her hot mouth, not wanting to choke her, but she only encouraged him with alternating pressure with her lips and tongue and pleasured hums. Gil's hips pumped harder and his back arched and he cried out and came explosively in her mouth. Sara swallowed his bitter tangy come and sucked more gently as he rode out his orgasm, and then he spurted an extra squirt that surprised them both.  
Sara grinned with satisfaction and moved up his body, licking her lips.  
Grissom kissed her deeply and moaned into her lips.  
"Now, I think, you know how it was for me," she told him, smiling wickedly.  
TBC  
TV Shows » CSI » HEAT  
Author: ILoveJorja 

Rated: M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Drama - Reviews: 214 - Published: 09-13-09 - Updated: 10-10-09 id:5374206

HEAT  
CHAPTER SIXTEEN  
There was an urgent pounding on the door.  
Grissom, who had just had the most incredible–mindblowing–blowjob of his entire life, was not capable of coherent thought, let alone throwing some clothes on and answering the door.  
Sara's door.  
Sara struggled tor release herself from the tangled sheets and limbs of her blissed-out lover.  
The pounding got louder.  
"Sara!"  
"I'm coming!"  
Sara muttered very bad words. She spared a glance at Gris, whose face wore a sweet, dopey expression she had never seen before-God he's adorable–and she grabbed the first clothes she could find in the dimness of the bedroom.  
"SARA!" the male voice yelled again.  
"COMING!" she yelled back, cursing whoever it was.  
She reached the door and looked through the peephole.  
Nick.  
Nick. Shit! Can't really pretend I'm not home, can I?  
Sara opened the door. Nick grabbed her into a fierce hug and lifted her off her feet.  
"God Sara, are you all right? I was so worried–I was asleep when I got the call that you were rescued–and I drove all the way out to the desert–only to learn you had been taken to the hospital..."  
"Nick." She struggled loose from his muscular arms and grabbed him. "Get in here. Close the damn door."  
Nick continued babbling. "And by the time I got to the hospital-I ran out of gas–you had both discharged yourselves-–they wouldn't tell me anything else–I tried to call but your phone is off-and then I drove back to the lab–-and..." Nick was practically jumping around the place. He reminded her of an over-eager, badly trained, barely exercised, too big Labrador pup, the kind that knocks you down and then, as soon as you struggle painfully to your feet, promptly knocks you down again.  
"Nick!"  
"What!"  
"Obviously I am fine. I'd offer you coffee but I think you've already had plenty..."  
"And I went to Grissom's place...So you're really okay? Hey, is that Grissom's shirt?" he said without thinking.  
Sara glanced down at herself. Yes indeed, Grissom's huge shirt, clearly, buttoned up crookedly, barely concealing her nakedness, with some bright green boxers with yellow and red lizards...Oops.  
"Nick. Will you calm the hell down?"  
"Sorry." He bounded to Sara's couch and sat down expectantly. Like a good dog. Sara was tempted to offer him a doggie biscuit and pat him on the head. There was Grissom's jacket and their shoes and socks haphazardly strewn about the room, but it was pointless to conceal them now.  
"And was that Grissom's car outside? 'Cause he left his lights on..." Sara mentally cursed Nick's well-honed investigative skills.  
Grissom appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up wildly in all directions, bare-chested and barefoot, an unreadable expression on his face.  
Nick turned bright red. "Oh hi, Gris."  
"Nick. Why don't we all have some coffee." Gil said. The lovers both went into the kitchen, which was only feet from Nick on the couch in the tiny apartment, and bumped into each other as they attempted to prepare the vital morning drink.  
As it was brewing, Sara retreated to her only bedroom, dressed herself more properly, dragged a brush through her wild hair, and emerged, offering Gris his shirt. He exchanged a look with Sara as he put it on and buttoned it up. They smirked as she smoothed down his hair. Gil went into the living room and sat down heavily in the armchair. Sara fetched them all coffee.  
There was an awkward silence.  
"Uh. Sorry for barging in." Nick's face was an even brighter shade of red.  
"I appreciate your concern." Grissom said calmly, sipping his java.  
"It was just that–I was so worried, you know? All that time lost in the desert..."  
"We weren't lost, Nick," she told him. "And yes, I do understand your worry. I'd feel the same way."  
"Okay. Um." He was fiddling with his coffee mug and looking anxiously around the room.  
"Nick. Obviously, Sara and I are a couple. Obviously, we'd like to keep it to ourselves, you understand?"  
"Yes. I get it. Sorry."  
"It's okay. I know you will keep this to yourself," Grissom said sternly.  
"Of course. You know that I will."  
"Good. You said something about my headlights being on?"  
"Yes!" Nick jumped to his feet. Grissom went back in the bedroom, found his keys, and handed them to him.  
"Could you check to see if my battery is dead?" he asked politely.  
"Sure!" He bounded out. Sara and Grissom looked at each other and sighed, but not with regret. Oh no, no regrets.  
Nick bounced back in. "Hey, your battery is dead, do you have any jumper cables?"  
"Yes. Let me get my shoes on and we'll get it started, okay?"  
Sara helped him find his socks-one was concealed behind the wooden screen-and he put on his jacket and shoes.  
Nick just stood their dumbly, picturing the two of them in bed...Ick...Sara, he could understand, she was stunning and oh so sexy–he had daydreamed–fantasized–about her. In fact there were a few months there when he regularly jacked off or woke up from a wet dream with her as the star. But he was always the costar. Of course he knew about their sexual chemistry, anyone over the age of twelve could know that they were smitten with each other, but picturing Grissom fucking that hot pussy? Ugh. It was like picturing your father...Will you stop thinking about this, Nicholas? I'm trying to. Sara's like a sister now–-oh God that's even worse–Sara sucking my boss's cock—Nick wanted to take his brain out and scrub it with soap and hot water.  
Sara saw his expression and blushed. Grissom raised his eyebrows at Nick.  
"You coming?" No, but I bet you just did. Stop it! Now!  
He followed Grissom out the door.  
Together, they managed to get the engine running. Sara watched through the window.  
Grissom sent Nick home and came back inside.  
"Hey. I need to leave it running for awhile." She nodded in understanding. "So, I'm going to go home and get a shower and change..."  
"I'll follow you," she said decisively. "In case you stall out. And I'll keep an eye on it while you're inside."  
"Thanks. That's a good idea. I'll make you breakfast."  
"That would be nice." She smiled and kissed him. Gil hugged her tight and kissed her again and again.  
"I love you, Sara." She sucked in a breath and looked very surprised and very happy.  
"I do, you know. I didn't want to say it...well I did, but...not...in the throes of passion."  
"I understand. People say all kind of crazy things when they're uh..."  
"Having incredible, amazing, fantastic sex?"  
Sara giggled. "Yeah, that. Go–-before your car gets stolen." He turned obediently.  
"Oh, and Gil?" He looked back.  
"I love you too."  
Gil's face lit up and he beamed at her.  
TBC  
A/N: See? Nick did "find" them after all. Thanks for all the compliments on my smut-writing abilities. You are all wonderful. About damn time we got to the heavy breathing, eh? In the words of the original smut lady herself, Mae West, "When I'm good, I'm very good, and when I'm bad, I'm better." By the way, anyone who gets the "coherent thought" reference gets a gold star.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN  
Grissom sat in his car, giving Sara a few minutes to get ready.  
I told Sara I love her. Of course I do. I always have.  
She loves me too. Ditto. Why did it take you eight years, you big dope? You dumbass. But, damn I feel so good right now. I know I'll probably screw it up at some point, but she...she always forgives me. Why? Dunno. God love her. What an amazing woman. Try to make it up to her. At the very least! Tell her you love her, again and again. Show her how much. She deserves that.  
I love Sara. I LOVE SARA SIDLE! Grissom felt like shouting from the rooftops, or hiring one of those airplanes that pulls a huge banner, or carving their initials in a tree with a big heart around it, or maybe spray painting the words on a billboard. Gil Loves Sara.  
Grissom had to do something. This was big. They'd made love (and it was spectacular), they'd survived being outed to Brass and Nick, they'd gotten out of the desert alive, and they'd said their I love you's to each other. Life was pretty damn good.  
"I Love You Sara!" Gil yelled at the dashboard. He yelled so loud that Sara heard it, and she grinned and shouted, "I love you too, Gil Grissom!" to the bathroom mirror.  
Sara hurriedly packed a few things. She had a feeling she was going to have a sleepover tonight (the thought made her grin like that canary-swallowing cat) so she got a simple change of clothes, her phone, a toothbrush, the usual stuff, took a quick glance around and locked up.  
She came out the door grinning that life-affirming grin, the one that lit up the whole city, the gorgeous grin that made Grissom's heart soar and his loins stir. Gil jumped out and gave her a big kiss. They kissed happily and then looked at each other with big goofy grins, their eyes dancing.  
"I love you, Sara."  
"Love you too, babe." One last kiss and they jumped in their cars and drove to Grissom's townhouse. Sara replayed their whole X-rated movie in her head. Grissom's mental images were very much the same. She felt a wonderful ache and twinge in her sex, all warm and wet and satisfied. She knew that it was an itch that would soon, and often, get scratched. Hot diggity damn. Grissom loves me.  
Gris carefully backed into his parking space, so he could get another jump if need be, and handed Sara out of her car. They strolled in still grinning, fingers entwined.  
"Make yourself at home, honey. Eggs okay?"  
"Sure," Sara answered, looking around curiously. She hadn't been here in years, and then only once. It looked pretty much the same, though.  
"Scrambled or fried? Or an omelet?"  
"Scrambled, with toast, please."  
"Coming right up."  
Sara watched him don an apron-can he get any more adorable?– whisk eggs in a bowl, then wandered around his big room. She browsed through his books, recognizing most of the titles, then turned the stereo on. Soft, ethereal, soaring voices–an aria–-filled the room.  
"Nessun dorma," Gil told her. They smiled at each other.  
He dished up heaping plates of eggs with cheese and butter and toast and apple jelly and orange juice, and started another pot of fresh coffee. They ate contentedly, not needing to fill the space with nervous idle chatter. When they were done and the dishes put in the dishwasher, he sat back down with her and sipped his coffee.  
Grissom was amazed at how comfortable he was with her here, in his private sanctuary, and told her so.  
"Yeah, it's nice, isn't it? I feel comfortable too."  
"Good. I'm glad." He chuckled ruefully. "You know, one of my biggest fears was that if I ever got off my ass and did something, it would screw up our friendship. Or I would get weirded out with you here. But I screwed up our friendship instead. And I like having you here. A lot."  
"Good. So, I can...sleep over, then?" Sara teased.  
"Oh, yeah. I'm planning on that." They chuckled.  
"Would you like to take the first shower?" Grissom asked politely. Savoring this nice easy feeling, neither felt like getting all naked and physical together, at least for a while...  
"No, you go ahead, hon."  
"OK."  
She listened to the water running, looked out his window, glanced at the few photos on the walls, and wandered into his office, which, not surprisingly, looked like a compact version of his CSI office. She lay down on the big leather couch in the living room.  
Grissom came out dripping wet and handsome, a white towel around his waist, and another rubbing his head.  
"All yours!" he called.  
Sara went into the warm steamy room, stripped and showered, smelling the various products he used that partly produced that intoxicating Grissom scent, uniquely his. All fresh and clean, she dressed in comfortable sweats and emerged.  
Gil stood awaiting her, holding a big blanket outstretched in his arms. He wrapped them both up together, and she melted into his warm embrace. God this feels good. They moved to the couch and curled up together in the blanket, murmuring sweet nothings and holding each other in comfortable intimacy. They shared a sweet nap, content with the universe.  
A shrill ringing, Gil's cell phone, woke them up.  
"Grissom. Hey, Catherine. That's OK. Where? How many?" Sara watched her lover, so easily shifting into his calm professional role, wondering at the many facets of this good man.  
He glanced at her. "No, I'll call Sara. Yeah. I'll pick her up on the way, if she's up for it. We'll be there soon." Grissom hung up and sighed.  
"Duty calls?" she asked lightly.  
"Yup. Three buggy bodies. Cath thinks it might be a serial."  
"Let's go."  
"You don't mind?"  
"Course not," Sara shrugged. "It's the job. Besides, I get to work with my favorite partner." Her smile was reflected in his.  
"There is that. And we have a sleepover to look forward to." She shifted to get up.  
"Come here, beautiful." He kissed her deeply, sensuously, and they started making out. Before it got too passionate, Sara reluctantly pulled away.  
"Hold that thought, sexy. God, I could kiss you for hours."  
"Um hmm." He pulled her down for one more deep kiss and then they dressed and left for work.  
Grissom's car started right up, so they drove that to the scene, both melding back into CSI mode. His face became serious and impassive again and hers focused and determined. Catherine apologized for calling them out and anxiously asked if they were recovered enough to work. Sara and Grissom both assured her it was fine, no problem, and she filled them in on the case.  
"Greg's off tonight. Poor guy was worn out," Catherine added in an aside as they walked indoors. "That skeleton–no sign of foul play. It's going to be tough to ID though. Doc has the bones. There were some scraps of clothes and shoes, but they were generic." Grissom nodded, listening carefully.  
"I thought we could...call in Teri Miller?" Catherine suggested.  
Grissom glanced at Sara, caught her nearly imperceptible nod, and answered, "Sure. Good thinking. Keep me posted."  
They split up to examine the three bodies and Sara joined Warrick in checking the rest of the house and perimeter. They all gathered evidence and processed the scene with the ease of a good, well-trained, experienced team, respecting each other's thoughts and theories, and doing what they did best. Warrick did the castings of some suspicious footprints and the sketches, Catherine photographed everything and documented the blood spatter, Sara found the trace evidence and dusted for fingerprints, noted what seemed out of place, and Gris dealt with the bugs and the overall scene.  
When the bodies were taken away and the evidence secured, they all went to the lab, where the real work began. Hours later, Grissom found her in the layout room, looking at the crime scene photos with her usual intent focus. He admired her beauty and grace.  
"Sara?" Gil said softly.  
"Mmm?" she answered, not looking up.  
"You ready to go?" She looked at him then, and her face changed to a tender expression. He was gazing at her, his blue eyes soft with such gentleness and yes, love, that it was all she could do not to kiss his sweet face.  
"No, um, you go ahead. I've got something here."  
"Need any help?"  
"No. Thanks though."  
"Okay. I'll see you later?" he asked hopefully.  
"Yes. You will."  
Sara worked until the pieces came together, then stretched and rubbed her stiff aching back and neck. She drove home–Grissom's house!–and found a note on the door. "Under the flowerpot." She found his key and let herself in quietly. Sara stopped short in the bedroom doorway. There was Grissom, completely nude, sleeping atop the covers on his stomach, his head turned away. A magnificent male animal. Her sexy, beautiful, brilliant man. My man. Sara stripped to a T-shirt and climbed in with him, pulled the covers over them and nestled close. I am the luckiest woman in the world. She joined him in sleep.  
HEAT  
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN  
Sara awoke in Grissom's arms. Heaven. This is heavenly. Oh wait, is that an erection pressing into my thigh? Why yes it is. Time to get me some of that.  
Sara moved his limp arm and rolled over to face him. So when Grissom woke up, moments later, he was receiving an intense handjob from the lovely Sara Sidle.  
"Unngghh." he groaned.  
"Morning, dear," she chirped, stroking harder with both hands. "Sleep well?"  
"Yessss," he hissed.  
"That's nice. Good dream?" she asked, squeezing his dick and stroking his balls.  
"Fuck...grrr...yesss," Grissom replied groggily. Sara was pumping him steadily.  
"What were you dreaming about, sleepyhead?"  
"You. Fucking you...like a...nnnggh," he groaned, trying not to come all over her clever hands.  
"Well, we'll just have to make it come true, then," Sara said cheerfully. He whipped off her T-shirt and moved to grab her.  
"Oh, no you don't," Sara said firmly, rolling him on his back and pinning his wrists to the bed. "Easy Ride needs a workout." Without further ado, she straddled his hips and wiggled her ass into position and sank all the way down on his rigid cock, letting out a huge sigh of satisfaction. She rode him like a galloping horse, pushing down his arms.  
"Damn, Sara. You feel so goddamn good."  
"MMM...gonna ride you hard, baby...make you come...fuck."  
"Oh, yeah, fuck me baby...Fuck me like an animal."  
Sara released his wrists and rubbed her clit to orgasm, pumping her hips vigorously. He watched, fascinated, as his pelvis thrust up deep into her and his hands caressed her bouncing breasts.  
They went faster, crying out obscenely. For such a quiet, reserved man, he sure is noisy in bed, Sara noted. Vocal. Hope the neighbors are enjoying this as much as I am.  
A thought trickled into his addled brain.  
"Sara! Wait...condom!"  
"Shit! Right," Sara said, reluctantly dismounting. Grissom growled and fumbled through the bedside drawer, knocking over a lamp in his haste. He got out of bed, returned the lamp to the table and retrieved a box.  
Grissom tried to remember how to open a box, remove a foil packet, and sheathe himself. Sara peeked up at him and smiled to see his bumbling. Taking pity, she yanked him down again, straddled his sweaty thighs, and rolled the bothersome latex down the dark red prick that was jutting up so proudly.  
"Now. Where were we?" She mounted again and they resumed, stroke after stroke, thrust after powerful thrust, yelling and whooping. When they came, one bang after the other, the bed was rocking and squeaking and the windows were rattling.  
"Hooee." Sara rolled off and brushed the sweaty hair from her face.  
Gil stripped off the condom and leapt inside her sprawled legs. He fucked her with his mouth, growling like a bear. Dragging his tongue along her cleft, he put his thumbs under her knees and rolled them up and down, then added the motion of pushing her legs far apart and close together. Sara climaxed yet again.  
He thrust a thick finger inside, then a second, and stroked her G-spot hard. Sara was getting hoarse. With his thumbs and forefingers, he imitated the motions she used to masturbate and Sara climaxed with a rush of fluid that Gil sucked off greedily.  
Gil moved up on his knees until he was astride her waist and jacked off on her breasts, then sucked that off too. Sara pulled him up to a deep wet kiss, licking their come off his lips and tongue and face. They collapsed, spent.  
"Now, that, is what I call a good morning," Gil moaned, when he could talk again. He could feel her giggling against his ribs.  
"Fuck, yes." Sara agreed.  
Sara waited until her heart and lungs regained normalcy, then started to get out of bed. She yelped in pain.  
Gil was with her instantly. "What is it, honey?"  
"Beard burn," she whimpered, "on my thighs."  
Grissom looked at the red scrapes and winced, touching the skin gently. "Ow," he said sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm so sorry I hurt you."  
"Ow," she agreed. "You better hope the pleasure was worth the pain."  
Grissom smirked proudly and she smacked him. "Oh, no you don't. I'll take some sandpaper to your dick and see how you feel."  
Gil briefly looked very scared, wincing at the image, and apologized profusely. "Sit tight. I'll run you a warm bath, okay?"  
He did so and eased her down into the water, then added baby lotion and swirled it around. Sara cleaned herself carefully while he washed every other inch of her, easing her back to massage her scalp and shampoo her hair, then rubbed the tension from the muscles in her back and shoulders and neck. Sara moaned.  
"Feel better?"  
"Um hmm. Thanks, love. You're a good boyfriend, you know?"  
"I try."  
"And an amazing lover."  
"Thanks. You are too. You have a helluva way to wake a guy up, you know." They snickered.  
"Should I shave it off?" Gil asked her, digging his thumbs in a knot in her shoulder.  
"Hmm, think on it. You're so handsome with a beard. You look so wise and noble."  
"Thank you." Gil blushed.  
He helped her out and drew another bath for himself, watching as she applied some ointment to her legs and did her teeth and hair and basic makeup.  
"Hey look, I'm pretty raw myself," he said, exhibiting himself.  
"Huh. No comparison," Sara said dismissively.  
"Right." He bathed silently and when Sara saw his abashed look her heart melted and she leaned down and kissed him.  
"I'm sorry, Gil. Don't feel bad. I'll live."  
"I'm so sorry, honey."  
Sara knelt by the bathtub and gave him a deep slow kiss. He cheered up a little.  
"Hey," she said brightly, "do you think my supervisor would have a problem if I wore sweatpants to work?"  
"If he does, I'll kick his ass," he grinned.  
"Good," she laughed. "Problem solved."  
TBC  
HEAT  
CHAPTER NINETEEN  
Sara strolled into the breakroom. Greg was standing at the coffee pot, a cup in hand, watching the brown liquid fill it. He seemed to be willing it to go faster.  
He looked up and grinned broadly. "Hey! Sara! Good to see ya. Uh, what's with the sweatpants?"  
Grissom was sucking my clit just hours ago. You wouldn't believe how great it was.  
"Laundry day. Hey, good to see you back too. How was the desert?"  
"Hot," Greg laughed. He started telling her all about it, the hike, the dogs, the skeleton, and the helicopter ride with the bag of bones clacking at his feet in vibration. She chuckled at him. He always knows how to make me laugh.  
"Oh, and we found your campfire, too. It was still smoking."  
Greg's eyes grew larger and more serious. Sara patted his hand and told him it was okay, she was scared too, and he smiled again.  
Warrick came in.  
"Hey girl! Back to the grind, eh? What's with the workout clothes?"  
Gil was pleasuring me orally this morning. It was fucking intense.  
"All my clothes are in the wash. It was either this or my ball gown or a tutu." The men laughed.  
"A tutu? Is it pink?" Greg teased.  
Catherine appeared. "What's this about a tutu?"  
"Never mind, Cath. I'm sure Greg will fill you in." Sara couldn't help but notice Catherine's appraising and critical look up and down her body. Sara narrowed her eyes and braced herself.  
"Are you wearing that?" Catherine asked at last. What is up with all the questions about my clothes?  
Sara rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, Mom," in an exaggerated teenager voice. Warrick and Greg chuckled. "I didn't have anything else clean to wear. Dryer burned out." And my thighs are raw from Grissom's beard as he went down on me. So there.  
"Anyhoo!" Catherine said importantly. "Grissom's going to be off tonight. He's back at the hospital for some tests."  
"Hospital? Is he okay?" the guys asked with concern. Sara pretended that this was all news to her and looked at her anxiously as well.  
"I'm sure Grissom will be fine. Just some followup stuff to see if there was any damage from that sunstroke." They all looked at Sara. She smiled and gave them reassuring looks.  
"So, assignments. Slow night, thank goodness. Nick's off too. Greg, you have a suspicious circs in Henderson. Call Warrick if you need help. Meanwhile, 'Rick and I and Sporty Spice here will be working on the case from last night." They all laughed at her little joke and the guys set off in different directions.  
Catherine waited for the others to go ahead and grasped Sara by the arm.  
"Hey. Seriously though. If you want Grissom to notice you, you've got to dress up more. I know you're not a girly girl, but... less of the boy clothes, okay?"  
Notice me? Oh yeah, we've been noticing each other. Screaming down the walls and screwing our brains out noticing.  
"Thanks for the tip, Catherine," Sara said cooly.  
"Teri Miller is coming tomorrow, you know," Catherine added significantly. Sara just nodded and left the room.  
Catherine stood, puzzled, for a moment. She might have bitten my head off if I'd said that last week. What's with her? She seems different.  
They got to work. The multiple from the night before was looking less like the work of a serial killer and more like a domestic dispute gone very wrong, thanks to Sara's photo analysis and Det. Cavaliere's insight on prior calls to the residence. Sara was able to lose herself in the work and not worry too much about Grissom. He had, truthfully, gone back to the hospital for his followup tests and scans.  
The hospital where they had been brought by ambulance was far away. Grissom left in late afternoon so it wouldn't be very long a wait, he hoped. He also, at Sara's insistence, made an appointment with his regular doctor for the next week.  
Grissom had told her as they were kissing goodbye for the next eight or more hours, that he would call her if it was bad or troubling news from the doctor–and Catherine if it was good news. Sara said she would tell the gang if they asked that her dryer burned out and all her work clothes were wet. That way she could dress comfortably for the next few days until her thighs were healed.  
They told each other how clever they were and smiled and kissed again. Sara watched him drive away.  
So Sara toiled away with Catherine and Warrick. When Cath's phone rang mid-shift she listened carefully to her end of the conversation. Her mood lightened. Sounds like good news. Thank God.  
At the very end of shift, as the case was just about as far along as they could take it for the night, Sofia sauntered in. Warrick was in the evidence locker. Sofia had no particular reason to be early for her shift, apparently, as she just started shooting the breeze with Catherine. Since when did they get so chummy?  
Sofia and Catherine swapped news about the case and about Grissom. Sofia finally seemed to notice Sara.  
"So, Sara. I'm glad to see you made it out of the desert. Must have been something, being lost like that."  
Sara bristled, but her voice and expression were steady. "We were not lost. Grissom had a medical emergency and we had to wait for rescue."  
"So..rry!" Sofia smirked. "Hey, what's with the sweatpants?"  
Sara explained for the umpteenth time about her fictional dryer malfunction. Sofia and Catherine exchanged a look.  
"I must say, Cath, you look very nice tonight. Love your top."  
"Thanks, Sofia. You look as good as always." They continued with their mutual admiration and fashion tips.  
"You know, Sara, you should get Cath here to give you a makeover. Have her take you shopping."  
"I'd be happy to. You have such nice long legs, you know. And with the right makeup, a certain someone might...get his head out of the microscope, so to speak." They snickered.  
Sara resisted the urge to yank their blonde hair out by the roots and tie their shoes together so they would trip.  
"Yes," Sofia considered, "and we could do something with that hair too." Catherine hummed in agreement, and they moved closer and discussed hairstyles. Like I would want to dress or get all tarted up like you two. Or use your wiles to snare a man. Sheesh.  
They started tugging at her clothes and lifting Sara's hair around like she was a department store mannequin. Sara batted their hands away.  
"Thank you, but I prefer to be noticed for my brains, not my appearance." She strode out and headed straight for the locker room. Enough of this shit. Fuck you both, thank you!  
"Mee..yow!" Sofia said to Cath, loud enough for Sara to hear. Catherine made a scratching motion with her hands. They giggled at each other.  
Sara banged her locker door open and sat down heavily on the bench. Warrick had just finished changing his shirt and he immediately came over and sat down.  
"Hey, Sara. What's up?"  
"Sofia," she hissed. "And Catherine. Thick as thieves. Giving me fashion and makeup advice." She kicked the locker door closed with a clang.  
Warrick took her hand. "Hey. Look at me." Sara met his sympathetic green eyes.  
"Girl, you're a knockout. You don't need to...spread all that crap on your face. I swear, Catherine must use a trowel sometimes." Sara giggled.  
"No, really. You're a natural born beauty with a kick-ass body. You don't need those tight pants or cleavage either. Don't let them get to you. Sofia? Well, she knows she'll never have a chance with Grissom, but she tries anyway, just to spite you."  
"Thanks, Warrick. You're hot stuff too."  
Warrick chuckled. "Yeah, we would make a handsome couple too. But our hearts belong to another, right?"  
Sara smiled her beautiful smile at him. She squeezed his big hand and released it.  
"Yes. They do."  
TBC  
TV Shows » CSI » HEAT  
HEAT  
CHAPTER TWENTY  
Grissom and Sara arrived for work in separate cars. They gave each other lingering looks as they went in different directions. Gris had heaps of neglected paperwork to attend to and a tedious meeting with Ecklie that couldn't be put off any longer.  
He appeared briefly to hand out assignments. Grissom put Nick and Sara together as no one else was available. Gil shot her a sympathetic look, knowing the pairing with Nick would be awkward since he showed up post coitum, but she just shrugged and told him with her eyes, It's okay. We have to get this over with anyway.  
Nick drove to the scene, fidgeting and unusually silent.  
Sara sighed. "Just ask, Nicky. The suspense is killing me."  
"Uh. So. How long have you...and Grissom...been, uh, dating?" he asked, squirming in his seat.  
"Technically we haven't gone on a date yet."  
"Really? But you..."  
"Had sex, yes."  
"I know," he said petulantly. "I'm not blind. I meant how long..."  
"Sunday was our first time."  
"And the...desert?"  
"Brought us closer, you might say."  
"Oh." Nick thought for a beat. "And you've known each other for...?"  
"Seven years and three months. Since I was a graduate student at Berkeley and he gave a seminar." Sara smiled to herself. That was a memory she would treasure the rest of her days.  
"Seven years," Nick mused. "Wow. You are...one very patient woman."  
"Yeah," she laughed. "Grissom is not exactly...easy."  
"Yeah. He's a good guy. Even if he is an oddball sometimes, I can see you...You know I'm happy for you guys, I mean I'm a little weirded out and all but I always knew you were really good for each other, I mean your chemistry is something else and..."  
"Nick?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Take a breath."  
"Oh. OK. It's just that, I mean, you are a beautiful young woman. And Grissom is..." Old.  
"Handsome? Smoking hot? A genius? Charming and sweet? Treating me like a queen?" Sara said heatedly, all too familiar with this topic.  
"Older," Nick muttered.  
"So? Age doesn't matter to me. I love the guy. And he loves me."  
"Uh...good to know. I want you to be happy, girl."  
"I am. Thanks. It's a dream come true." Sara decided to have a little fun, in retribution for his barging into her apartment and getting all red in the face and staring at her that way when she was in Gil's shirt and her lizard boxers.  
"I know Gris seems like a conservative, reserved man, but he is a tiger in bed, hooee, and..."  
"Sa..ra."  
"He makes me feel like a natural woman, you might say. Not to mention he has one hot bod under those baggy clothes and damn he is hung like a..."  
"Sara!" Nicky yelled.  
"What!" she snickered. Nick was flushed and gripping the steering wheel with whitened knuckles.  
"I don't want to hear the details!"  
"Well, you did ask," Sara smirked. "Loud, too. Who knew."  
Nick glared at her, then broke into a deep hearty laugh. "You are bad, you know that? My mind is all polluted now..."  
"Poor baby," she said, laughing.  
"I mean I have to work with the guy, you know. Look him in the eye and not think about..."  
"Him all hot, sweaty, naked and horny?" Sara asked, giggling helplessly.  
"Will you stop already?"  
"Okay, okay," Sara said, still giggling. "You're cute when you're embarrassed."  
"Yeah, yeah," Nick muttered. "So are you."  
Brass was waiting when they pulled up. He gave her a smirk. Peachy. Are you going to give me the third degree, too? Seeing her pointed annoyed look, Brass cleared his throat and filled them in on the gory details.  
Sara came back to the lab feeling in dire need of a shower. It was a messy scene. She headed straight to the locker room, then glimpsed Teri Miller down the hallway, talking to Catherine. Oh joy. The Ice Queen herself. And Mrs. Don't-fish-off-the-company-pier. Having a little bitch reunion.  
Freshened up and glad she had brought a nicer, fairly comfortable pair of trousers along, Sara approached Grissom's office. Sofia was draped on his desk, leaning over toward Gil. Great! Let's invite Lady Heather and it can be a party!  
Sara paused some distance away and observed their interaction. Sofia had her cleavage in his face at eye level. Grissom leaned back slightly and maintained steady eye contact. Good boy. Sofia was practically leering at him, batting her eyes and pursing her lips. Grissom looked politely interested, not engaging in whatever Sofia was saying, barely saying a word, and tapping a folder with a pen as if to say, Are we almost done here?  
Sofia reached out to touch his arm. Grissom flinched like she was a snake. Oh, babe, you are going to get some tonight. I'm so proud of you.  
With that thought, Sara came through the doorway and said, "Grissom?"  
Gil looked at her and his face transformed for just a moment, until he slipped his neutral look back on. His eyes still danced though and he looked mighty relieved.  
Sofia shot her a venomous glare. Sara just nodded at her politely, saying simply, "Sofia. Nice to see you."  
"Yes, Sara?" Grissom said happily.  
"Teri Miller is here."  
TBC  
HEAT  
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE  
"Oh! Teri's here? Right. We shouldn't waste her valuable time, then," said Grissom.  
Sara and Grissom looked pointedly at Sofia.  
"So, we'll catch up later, Gil?"  
"I believe we just did." Grissom told her calmly.  
Sara hid a smirk. Scratch that, hot stuff, you are getting some every night for a week!  
"Time to catch some bad guys, Curtis," she told the blonde.  
Sofia looked flustered at their combined attitude and left.  
Sara and Gil smirked at each other.  
"God, I thought she'd never leave. I was starting to hope my phone would ring, even get a visit from Ecklie..." Sara giggled.  
"So," Grissom said.  
"Yup. Hey, I thought I'd watch Teri Miller's technique of facial reconstruction. Maybe then I could do it next time.'  
"Excellent idea. After all, you did an outstanding job on that Svetlana Melton case."  
They grew more serious. Sara had indeed done a remarkable facial reconstruction from the body in the tar, which cracked the case, but it was the case that almost got her fired, and had forced her to reveal her painful past to Gil. Not a happy memory, but Sara was touched at his compliment. She gave him a sad smile.  
"C' mon then," Grissom said, getting out of his chair.  
They walked into the morgue, where Teri was laying the bones out in order on the slab.  
"Dr. Miller?" Grissom said politely. Teri looked puzzled at his formality.  
"I don't believe you've met my g...my colleague, Sara Sidle." Girlfriend? Girlfriend? both women thought simultaneously. Did he just almost call me his girlfriend?  
"Nice to meet you, Sara." They shook hands, sizing each other up.  
"Sara is going to observe the facial reconstruction," Grissom continued in the same chilly professional tone. "It would be good to have someone on staff to help with these John Does."  
"Oh! Sure." Shit! I was looking forward to stroking his hands over the clay again. "Right. We've got a Caucasian male, 5' 9", mid to late twenties," she began, explaining the features that led to her conclusions. "No sign of trauma. He looks to have been an athletic type, with a healed left tibia."  
"Any idea how long since he died?" Grissom asked.  
"Hard to say. With the exposure in the desert and the scavenger activity, at least a year, maybe two." They nodded.  
"Gives us a timeline on missing persons. Somebody must be wondering what happened to him. Dental records might be helpful, too," Sara said. Grissom glanced at her proudly.  
"Sure. So, we take the skull and..." Teri started adding tubes of clay to fill out the face. Sara stepped closer and watched intently. Doesn't look too difficult. After an hour or two, they had a face, which Sara carefully photographed, and she took extensive notes.  
As she was doing so, Teri started talking to Grissom and ignoring Sara, asking him about his time in the desert and expressing her concern.  
"I might not be here if it wasn't for Sara," he said simply. Oho! So he owes her. Maybe that's all this is.  
"I'm glad you were there for him, Sara," Teri said. "So, you know I'm always happy to come help you out, Gil, anytime," she said flirtatiously. Grissom just looked at her.  
"My flight doesn't leave until tomorrow," she continued. "And I believe I owe you for walking out on dinner last time."  
"That's quite all right. Unfortunately, I have plans for the evening. I owe my girlfriend a Mexican dinner."  
Teri looked stunned. Sara had to turn around to conceal her look of delight.  
Teri shook hands and made her farewells and strode through the swinging morgue doors.  
Sara grinned at him. "You are something else. A catch."  
"Yeah, I am," Grissom chuckled. "And I have a hot girlfriend, too."  
Sara smiled and stroked his cheek.  
"Chalk?" he asked, remembering a special moment.  
"Nope. Magic dust. The magic you have, honey." Grissom cocked an eyebrow. He looked around comically and gave her a smooch, which she returned happily, throwing her arms around his neck.  
David Philips happened to be just at the morgue door and observed the exchange. Tactfully, he walked to the end of the hall and waited until the couple came out. Good for you, Grissom. About time. That Sara, she's a beauty, and was so sweet when I made a pass at her, all those years ago. I always knew she was out of my league.  
"So am I finally going to have a date with the hot Gil Grissom?"  
"Only if I get a date with the sexy Sara Sidle," he smiled.  
"Deal."  
They finished their shift, both in a fine mood, and drove to Grissom's townhouse to change for their first date. Both dressed up but comfortably, at ease with each other but demonstrating the desire to show how much this meant to them.  
The dinner was hot. They ordered lots of cold beer, both getting tipsy, and ordered everything they had for their imaginary dinner. No mariachi band, but a Gil bought a red rose from a strolling flower vendor and Sara kissed him deeply in thanks. Sara and Gil fed each other, licking each other's fingers sensuously and kissing sauce from each other's lips. Their looks became more and more smoldering as the date continued. Grissom was ready to throw himself across the table and ravish her, and Sara looked like she would not object. Oh, no.  
Most of the diners watched them with surreptitious pleasure, other than a mother who huffed and made a show of dragging her goggling son out the door. The happy couple was oblivious. Their waiter wished he had a girlfriend as hot as that sweet young thing. They strolled out arm and arm.  
"Ice cream?" Sara suggested lightly.  
"Later." Gil whispered hotly in her ear, "I want dessert in bed." Sara shivered.  
TBC  
A/N: I am getting a big kick out of your reviews. Knowing that I make people laugh with my twisted humor, well, that is very gratifying. Thanks.

 

HEAT  
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO  
"Dessert in bed," Sara purred. "A wonderful way to end a wonderful evening."  
Grissom kissed her sensuously. "You are one hot date, honey," he told her, making her chuckle and agree.  
They stumbled to his car, stopping every few seconds for another longing kiss. Gil and Sara couldn't keep their groping hands off each other, only making themselves look respectable when a beat cop gave them the fish eye.  
Grissom handed Sara into her seat, then hurried around to the driver's side. He bonked his head on the doorframe in his haste.  
"OW!"  
"Ooo, that must have hurt. I heard the crack. Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine." He was holding his forehead.  
"Let me see," Sara said, tugging his hands away. "Um. You're going to have a knot. But it isn't bleeding. Let me kiss it better."  
"Okay," Grissom said in a small voice. He leant in and she kissed it until it was better. Much better.  
"God, honey. Every time you touch me it turns me on. How do you do that?"  
She giggled. "That's one of the womanly mysteries, dear. Home," Sara urged. "I want to make the rest of you feel better."  
Grissom groaned. She was stroking his thigh as he drove and murmuring all the things she wanted to do in his ear. He had to adjust his clothing twice. Having a hard time concentrating, with everything he wanted to do to her and with her clouding his brain, he begged, "Sara. Stop," and covered her roaming hand. "I'd like to get us both home in one piece."  
"Okay," she said, abruptly releasing him and leaning back in her seat.  
Grissom was confused. "Honey, I..." he trailed off.  
"It's okay. I can wait. I'm very good at waiting."  
Grissom winced. "Yes. You are the most patient woman in the world. I don't deserve you," he said, his voice deep with regret.  
"Yeah," she said heavily. "I surprised myself. But I couldn't get you out of my head. Or my heart. If I'd left...all those years ago..."  
"If you'd left-it would have killed me. I can't live without you, Sara," Gil said sadly.  
"Yeah. Me too."  
The rest of the drive was in silence.  
Grissom pulled her into his arms as soon as they were inside, holding her and kissing her with tenderness.  
"I love you so much Sara," he told her again and again. Sara thawed and let herself be seduced.  
"Show me how much you love me, Gil," she told him throatily.  
Grissom swept her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. He laid her down and removed her clothes inch by inch, reverently kissing every newly exposed bit of skin. When they were both naked, Gil moved his head between her legs and caressed her with his tongue. Sara flinched and tried to bite back a whimper of pain.  
"Oh, Sara. I hurt you again." He looked like he was about to weep and laid his head on her thigh, looking at her sorrowfully.  
Sara stroked his head. "Oh honey, don't be sorry. I know you just want to give me pleasure."  
"I do."  
"Hey. I know. If you shave off that beard, I'll go on birth control."  
"Really?" Gil's face lit up. "No more condoms?"  
Sara laughed at his enthusiastic response and he chuckled at himself.  
"Get up," she instructed, pushing him toward the bathroom.  
"Now?"  
"Now," Sara said, rooting through his medicine cabinet. "Hey, is this a straight razor kit?"  
"Yeah. My grandfather's."  
"Nice. Can I shave you with this?"  
"If you want," he said, intrigued and turned on. "No one's ever shaved me before."  
"I want." Sara rubbed thick shaving cream into his beard, stopping every so often to kiss his handsome sexy face. She stropped the razor, looking at him in the mirror.  
"Do you trust me?"  
Sara turned and stepped between his legs and they looked at each other lovingly.  
"Intimately," Gil said, in his deep bedroom voice.  
Sara shivered with desire. Gently, she put her hand to the side of his head. He leaned and tilted his head back, exposing his vulnerable throat and closing his eyes. Trust. Such perfect trust.  
With care, she drew the sharp razor down his cheek. Sara concentrated on getting his face smooth and not cutting him, not even a nick.  
"Feels so good, honey," Grissom moaned. "This is turning me on."  
"Yeah," she whispered, "It's getting me hot, too."  
"No condoms," he mused. "So I can really feel you. No barriers between us. Feel how wet you are for me, how warm and ready..."  
"God, Gil. You're making it hard to concentrate here."  
Grissom started touching her intimately, feeling her respond.  
Sara rinsed and wiped off the razor. Laying it down she kissed him passionately.  
"So sexy. God, I love you, Gil."  
"Mm hmm," he agreed, moving his face into that sensitive neck and flicking his tongue up it.  
"Hey," she gasped, "we're not done."  
"No. I'm just getting started," he moaned in her ear, caressing it with his mouth.  
"Lover, please. I..."  
Gil was touching her in a way that made her squirm.  
"Gilbert!" she cried out desperately.  
The fog lifted from his brain briefly. "Sorry. I'll be good." He kept himself perfectly still as she shaved the rest of his beard, concentrating with an adorable furrowed brow and protruding pink tongue on that deep cleft in his chin.  
"There," Sara said with satisfaction. Grissom rinsed off and felt his newly exposed skin.  
"Wow, honey, you did that very well."  
"Thanks," she said, rubbing his chin with a towel and then her hands. "Mmm. Nice and smooth."  
"So, no more condoms," he groaned, sweeping her up in his arms again and carrying her back to bed. "I'll just have to pleasure you orally then."  
"And I the same," she said seductively.  
He raised a Grissom eyebrow at her and then waggled them both. Sara chuckled.  
They moved into the classic 69 position and sucked and licked each other until they were both spent and happy. Gil laid his head on her chest and listened to her pounding heart.  
"I've never loved anyone so much Sara. Never. Not even close. You have my heart."  
"You're my one and only, Gil. I'm yours."  
He moved up so they were face to face and held her in his arms.  
"Good night, my love."  
"Good night, Gil. I love you."  
"I love you too, Sara."

 

HEAT  
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE  
Sara awoke to the delightful sensation of tiny whispering kisses on her neck and shoulders and arms. As soon as she stirred, Grissom gave her a deep loving kiss.  
"Mmm," she hummed happily in his mouth. Gil's hands caressed her naked body.  
"Good morning," he murmured into her hair.  
"It is. A very good morning." She turned to touch his warm skin.  
"Hey," she said playfully. "I'll have you know...I don't usually put out on the first date."  
Grissom snorted into her neck. "Neither do I."  
Sara giggled. "Do you still respect me?"  
"Oh, more than ever, dear. You have great taste." He chuckled.  
"I sure do, handsome. Now that you mention it, you taste great too." He pulled away to grin at her.  
"So do you. Sweet as nectar."  
"Thanks."  
Grissom moved his mouth and hands to the places that made her quiver and groan.  
"Oh...mmm...don't start...anything...you can't finish," Sara moaned.  
"I don't. I never do," he told her.  
"No, umm...you never...do anything...ah...half-assed."  
"Yeah...I'm pretty much...a full-assed...kind of guy," Grissom said between warm wet kisses.  
Sara chuckled. She stroked him between the legs as he did the same.  
"Oh...God, Sara...I,"  
"Mmm?"  
"You make me..." He slid a leg between hers and she ground into his thigh.  
"I guess," he panted, "I can...unngghh...wear a condom...one more time."  
"I'd...I'll make it...worth your...ah...discomfort."  
"You...always do."  
Grissom sat up and groped through his bedside drawer. Sara watched him, stroking his smooth chest, and looking into those warm loving blue eyes. He smiled down at her, concentrated on sheathing himself, and then pounced.  
"Aha! Now I can have my way with you."  
Sara rolled him over and tussled with him, giggling. He growled and tickled and groped her madly.  
"I was right," she gasped, "you are a tiger in bed...like I told Nick."  
"You did what?" Grissom pulled his face away, looking astonished.  
Sara grinned up at him and repeated her conversation with Nick, and how she had made him blush and squirm in his seat with her teasing.  
Grissom laughed deep in his chest. "You told him...I was...hung like a...?  
"I didn't finish the thought. But I'm sure he filled in the blank," Sara said, grinning.  
"Oh, God. You are...something else. Bad! It's going to be tough to look him in the face...and see those wheels turning."  
Sara chuckled. "He said the same thing. But look at it this way...he'll have a whole new level of respect for you," she smirked.  
Sara moved so he was cradled between her legs and caressed his ass.  
"I don't want him to think about me–that way!"  
"He already does...he did see you half-naked, you know," Sara said, resuming her ministrations.  
"Good point...umm...serves him right...oh, honey," Gil moaned. "I don't want...to talk about Nick...anymore...I want you," he said, sliding into warm welcoming wetness.  
"Oh! Oh, God...Nick who?"  
They rocked together, slowly and passionately, kissing and playing with their tongues. They made sweet love together, with their beating hearts as well as their bodies. Gil stroked deeply, sensuously, into her, holding himself back until she repeatedly clenched and clawed at him, panting and moaning and crying out his name.  
"Oh love, come for me," Sara urged, and he clutched her desperately and thrust hard and fast, groaning a deep wild sound from his balls up to his mouth and into the crook of her neck. He let his body rest on hers for a moment as she held him tight.  
"No, stay," she whispered, when he started to roll off.  
"I'm not...too heavy?"  
"No," Sara said softly. "Just right. I love to feel...your big warm body on mine. Like this."  
He lay still for awhile and held her slender slick body, then rolled her over so she was atop him and wriggled a hand down between them and removed the condom.  
"I'm not going anywhere until I see my OB-GYN," Sara promised. "I don't want to wait another day."  
"Good," he said, smiling.  
"You look good, all smooth-faced again," Sara told him, stroking his chin. "Younger. Like when we first met."  
"Thanks. You look the same as you did, too. All those years ago. You could still," he said, kissing all over her face, "pass for what, twenty-three?"  
"Twenty-four. Thank you."  
"Mmm. Like a flower that never fades."  
"You're sweet."  
"You're beautiful."  
"Thanks." Sara gently touched the knot on his forehead. "This still hurt? It's bruised."  
"A little," Gil admitted.  
"Catherine's going to want to know."  
"Catherine can mind her own business. She and Teri and Sofia can go take a flying leap."  
Sara giggled. "Hey. I'm so proud of you, the way you handled them yesterday."  
Gil grinned. "That was kind of fun. The look on Teri's face when I almost called you my girlfriend?" They chuckled together.  
They got up and did their usual morning routines, already used to and fairly comfortable with each other even after just days. Sara called her OB-GYN and was told she could stop by. She left before Grissom so she could go by her apartment too and get some clean clothes.  
After a short discussion on her options, Sara decided on an IUD, as hormone treatments had caused her unpleasant side effects in the past. So the doctor inserted it and she paid. She grinned to herself, thinking of spontaneous sex with her hot lover, and maybe lighter and shorter periods too. Bonus.  
Sara arrived for work glowing and in a magnificent mood.  
TBC  
TV Shows » CSI » HEAT  
Author: ILoveJorja 

Rated: M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Drama - Reviews: 214 - Published: 09-13-09 - Updated: 10-10-09 id:5374206

HEAT  
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR  
Sara strolled into the breakroom. Greg and Nick were idling, playing football with a folded up piece of newspaper.  
"Goal!" Greg yelled. "Two points."  
He looked up at Sara, who had a sweet blissful smile.  
"Hey! You're looking chipper. Any particular reason?" Greg said teasingly.  
Hmm, I'm with the love of my life... I'm getting laid on a regular basis...  
"Nope. Just happy."  
Greg raised his eyebrows. Nick looked uncomfortable.  
"Happy, eh?" Greg said suggestively.  
"Yes, Greg. Happy. A feeling of well-being or contentment. Would you rather I mope around, bewailing my fate?"  
"Nah, of course not. You look like somebody who just got..." Nick kicked him under the table.  
"Ow! What was that for?" Greg said, rubbing his leg.  
"Sorry. Leg cramp."  
"Leg cramp, my ass." Greg bent down to tug up his pant leg and examine his injury. Nick winked at Sara. She pursed her lips in amusement and mouthed Thanks. He just grinned at her.  
Sara moved over to the coffee pot and the guys resumed their game.  
Catherine strode in.  
"Sara? Can I see you a minute?"  
"Ohh..kay." She followed her out into the hallway.  
"Sara. I talked to Teri Miller before she left yesterday," Catherine said in a low urgent voice.  
Sara cocked an eyebrow. "And?"  
"And, she said Grissom told her he had a girlfriend," Catherine said, stressing the word in a tone of utter disbelief.  
"Really."  
"Yes! Really. I've never heard Grissom say he had a girlfriend, ever!"  
Sara chose her words carefully. "Yes. That would be a first for me, too."  
Catherine leaned in even closer and said in a loud excited whisper, "Who do you think it is?"  
"I...couldn't say," Sara answered, struggling to keep a straight face and as close to the truth as she dared. "Why don't you ask him?"  
"Huh. Like he'd tell me. Do you think it's Heather? Or that new girl, what's her name? Mia. She's pretty hot..."  
"Um hmm. She is."  
"You don't seem too...hey," Catherine's eyes narrowed. "What's with you, anyway?"  
"Nothing. Could it be Sofia?"  
"Nah. Sofia said Grissom blew her off yesterday."  
"That reminds me. When did you and Sofia get to be so chummy?"  
"Ah. Sofia's good people. We've always gotten along," Catherine said defensively.  
"I seem to remember you telling me she was a snake in the grass who repeated everything to Ecklie," Sara said, enjoying making Catherine squirm.  
"Oh. Did I? First impressions, you know..."  
"I thought first impressions were usually right," Sara said calmly.  
Whatever Catherine was going to say to that was interrupted by the arrival of Grissom.  
He glanced into their faces impassively and continued into the breakroom. The women followed.  
"Good, looks like we're all here...Sanders?"  
"Yes sir?" Greg said hesitantly.  
"Is that the...crossword puzzle you boys are playing with?"  
"Uh." Greg unfolded their paper football. "It's yesterday's?"  
"I didn't finish yesterday's puzzle, Greg."  
"Oops."  
"That 'oops' just earned you a dumpster run. West Industrial. Chop chop." The others laughed. Grissom thrust the assignment into his hand and he slunk out. Grissom finished handing out the rest of the assignment slips and they got to work.  
A few hours later, Grissom found Sara in a darkened lab, patiently scrolling and clicking through the missing persons database.  
"Hey," he said softly.  
Sara lit up. "Hey yourself."  
Grissom swooped in beside her and brushed her shoulder with his.  
"What did the doctor say?" he whispered.  
Sara snickered. "We're all set."  
"Rea..lly?"  
"Yup. IUD. No worries, no fuss," she said in the same low tone.  
"No latex." They grinned at each other. "So we don't have to...wait, or anything?"  
"No, we could have worry-free sex right here, right now," Sara said teasingly, gesturing at the large table.  
Grissom groaned.  
"Or, say, in the locker room, or your office, or in the storage closet..."  
"Sa..ra."  
"Griss..om."  
Catherine came in to go over some evidence. Grissom straightened and listened attentively. She suddenly seemed to see him for the first time that night.  
"Grissom! You shaved. What happened to your head?" Catherine asked in her usual blunt way.  
"As always, your powers of observation astound me, Ms. Willows," he said drily. "I bumped my head."  
"No, I mean...you've had that beard for ages. Why did you suddenly shave it?"  
"It...scratched," Grissom said. Sara smothered a giggle. "It was time for a change. People do change, you know."  
"Sometimes for the better," Sara added quietly.  
THE END  
EPILOGUE  
Grissom and Sara had embarked on the best chapter of their relationship since their meeting. The heat of the desert transformed within them into the heat of love and desire, which burned even brighter now that it was reciprocated freely. The bond they forged in the desert would be sorely tested in the months and years to come, with unimaginable events that would change and drive them apart, but not for long, and not forever. For now, they are happy and together and in love, and we leave them there.  
A/N: I am a little sad to end this story. It has been a great run and a real pleasure. But I realize that my neglected WIP Trust/ Trusting the Team picks up where this one comes to a logical end, with Grissom and Sara as an established couple who are going through the growing pains that couples do. The short time that GSR thrived before Sara's ordeal in the desert is a golden time, one that I am drawn again and again to explore.  
I wish to thank the CSI writers and all the creative and talented people associated with CSI for the rich characters and fascinating storylines and the sustained love story they made, the finest love story ever portrayed on television. These characters are brought so beautifully to life by Jorja Fox and Billy Petersen. Thank you, Jorja and Billy, for everything.  
And thank you, dear readers, for coming along on my journey.  
ILoveJorja


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